Jake's Girls III
by Sand5Marlowe
Summary: Welcome to the third installment of the Jake's Girls stories. It has been a year since the events of Sequel: Jake's Girl. A new seamstress with a mysterious past comes to town and immediately sets her sights on Jake. Meanwhile Teresa is called away leaving Jake to care for his girls with the help of Cloud Dancing, Hank, Michaela, and Sully. Hope you enjoy the read. :)
1. Chapter 1

The meadow thrived brightly under the vibrant spring weather. Thick as fur the grass sprung up lush and wild, carpeting every acre in emerald splendor. Scattered in patches, feathery fat orbs of dandy lions bobbed in the cool breeze, like fallen balls of clouds. The giant oaks reached out with their heavy leaf burdened boughs providing ample shade to the blue beds of cornflowers, pink and white petals of droopy poppies, and the pure white spokes of springing daisies. Swirling in sporadic eddies the breeze swooped down through the open field bringing with it the tantalizing scents of Grace's sizzling fried chicken, hot honey glazed buns, and the sweet lulling aroma of cooling apple pies.

The cheery excited laughter of children rose up over the casual conversations and unwanted suggests of surrounding adults, where they occupied the meadow closest the town. Hank sat perched on the rail of the gaped wooden fence which separated the wagon's pass way from the open greenery of the meadow. Now and then, he leaned close to Loren's indignant form as he shook his head with disapproval, and whispered crudely. Shaded under her dainty pink parasol Dorothy tugged snuggly into her chain stitched powder blue shawl as she chuckled behind her hand at Jake's growing agitation. His hands held cautiously tight to the rope which was attached firmly to the pony's bridle. Turning slowly with the young creature Jake's eyes never left Lucy's joyous form as she held to the miniature reigns. Lucy and her new pony completed yet another turn around Jake as she continued to ignore his warnings not to pull so tightly on the leather straps. As she neared the gathered onlookers, Lucy waved to Katie and the other curious children who had gathered under the shade of a nearby oak.

"Keep yah heels down!" Jake demanded trying to mask his amusement at her unflinching bravado.

"An' she oddent tah be ridin' like that Jake!" Loren scolded him wagging his finger. "Ladies ride sidesaddle!"

"Loren! That's so old fashioned," Dorothy chided him with a gentle nudge.

"Yeah Loren," Hank said tossing a mass of sandy waves over his shoulder. "Luc is still farin' better than you did on that stallion."

"What are yah squallin' about over there?" Jake asked without turning to face them.

They quickly quieted watching as Lucy began to urge the pony into a trot. Jake gave the rope a little slack to accommodate for the sudden rise in speed. With each bouncing prance, Lucy's fat sable ringlets danced like springs around her head. Keeping her heels down as commanded she began to grow impatient with her far too prudent instructor. "I want to run him!"

Jake's body went rigid wrapping the slack around his wrist. He shook his head slowing the animal down much to its tiny riders chagrin. She pouted ferociously at him rounding her pearly bluish-gray eyes, with deep disappointment, at him. Shaking his head once more, he fought the corners of his mouth as they endeavored to curl up into a smirk. Lucy shrugged her shoulders with a loud humph, pursing her lips to one side, maintaining her pleading stare. Pushing his suede hat back on his head, he looked about to see that she wasn't watching them as she'd warned. Deciding the coast was clear Jake smiled roguishly releasing the slack of the rope.

"A light trot Lucy," he warned deciding to play it safe.

"Sc'got yah wrapped around her little finger, Jake," Hank called snatching up a long stock of wheat like grass placing it in the side of his mouth.

Loren stepped forward hooking his thumbs in his vest pockets, "Now Jake, take it from someone that's raised a girl. Yah gotta show ah strong hand, or they run wild . . . Can't be helpin' that yah let her go 'round learnin them Indian ways."

Jake shot Loren a warning glance over his shoulder as he gave Lucy more room to bring the pony into a heady canter. Choosing not to address this last remark, Jake knew Dorothy would reprimand Loren when no one was around. He continued to maintain his focus on Lucy instructing her to lean forward to accommodate the shift in stance.

"That's good, honey," Jake beamed as she strived to push the pony into a full run. But Jake's steady arm tugged gently, slowing the pony's speed at every turn.

"Can I try tah run him Papa? Please," Lucy called to him.

Once again, Jake scanned his surroundings, before relenting to her. "Hank, can yah get my horse from the livery?"

"He most certainly will not!" Teresa appeared at Dorothy's side rocking the tan wicker carriage. "Lucy is too young Jake."

Jake laughed at his own immaturity, slowing Lucy's pony until he came to a halt. In one swift movement, he lifted her from her dwarfed saddle and planted her on the soft lawn. The pony grazed uninterested in the bipeds around him. Watching as Lucy immediately took to the carriage wiggling her finger at Izzy's reaching arms, Jake crossed to greet his lovely wife. Her black satin tresses were tamed into loose curls which she had pinned under her wide brimmed lavender sun hat. Still wavy tendrils of glossy ribbons escaped at her temples blowing fetchingly across her face. Her lightly tinted fingers hooked around these stubborn hairs pulling them back down into place. Teresa's eyes betrayed her stern countenance as her eyebrow rose and those deep soil colored orbs shone with cheer. Holding her hat with one hand, she leaned her head back as Jake stooped under the brim to kiss her longingly on the lips.

Pulling away finally, Jake stared at her as though there were no other in the world. His dove gray eyes mooned over as the corner of his mouth curled up in a charming grin. There were times when he didn't think he could ever get used to the fact that she was his.

"What do we have here?" Dorothy cooed leaning around Lucy into the carriage. Izzy had tuned over onto her stomach attempting back her way out of her wicker cradle. Jake spun the carriage towards him, reaching in, and pulling Izzy into his arms. He held her against his chest with his large hand gently rubbing circles on her tiny back. Izzy rested her head under his chin sucking sleepily on her fingers. Under the shinning golden sun her auburn crown of lazy curls glittered brilliantly with the hues of wine red roses, and web thin lights of gold. The affect off set the blush in her porcelain skin and the slight pink hue of her lips. Dorothy continued to fuss over the babe smoothing her fiery curls in her fingers. "My, she looks just like you Jake. If it weren't for those eyes."

"Poor kid," Hank jumped up off his perch patting Lucy on the head as he passed. "'Nother girl Jake. You're never gonna get any use outta them boots I gave yah."

Jake rolled his eyes and parted his lips about to rip into Hank when he saw Horace's lanky stride rushing shambolically across the wagon pass with a telegram waving in his hand. "Loren where yah been? This just come through! An answer to yah ad!"

"What ad?" Dorothy turned her attentions back as Loren smacked the telegram angrily out of Horace's hand.

"Aw I placed an ad out forah new seamstress," Loren folded the parchment in half before hiding it away in his vest pocket.

"Seamstress? For what?" Jake observed Loren suspiciously.

The man ran his finger parallel with his lips as he stared off into the distance. "For what? . . . What do you think?"

"That there says she can tailor men's suits too," Horace pointed his massively long finger at Loren's pocket.

Loren swatted comically at Horace's finger, hitting only air as he jumbled back. "Why don't yah mind yah own business?" Loren stalked off towards the town grumbling under his breath. "An oath!"

"Well that man can get mad faster'in anyone I know," Horace shook his head as he nodded to the ladies before stalking off, back to the telegraph office.

Dorothy shrugged after them in wonder, "well might be nice. . . Have some new dresses made up."

"Yes," Teresa nodded tugging on Jake's worn and fading blue duster. "It would be nice.


	2. Chapter 2

As the ember glow of the sky slowly began to tuck itself behind the towering thickets of the tree line, Jake leaned back into the white wrought iron chair on the terrace. With his ankle relaxing on his knee, he balanced his sketchpad in his lap. The crude round pencil wagged loosely between his fingers as he peered out across the stone walk at Teresa. The moment they had gotten home, with Lucy and Izzy settled, she'd changed into her plain chocolate garden dress and released the bottom half of her hair. It spun down in thick shimmering spirals which came to rest just above the small of her back. Now he watched her in a daze, as she leant over her champagne toned honeysuckle beds, picking out the dried tiny husks and tossing them into her basket. With every bow, her glossy mane fell over her shoulder and dipped down into the sweetly scented floras. Now and then, she swept back the fringe at her temple which had fallen too close to her eye.

"And then after a long day of hunting and findin' nothing, Grampaw came upon a drinking fool, who had fallen from his horse," Lucy waved her hands in front of her face to better emphasize her story telling. She sat on her knees in front of Izzy on a hand woven blanket, lined in vibrant blues, reds, and yellows, on the floor of the terrace. Izzy sat wobbling on her bottom with her legs stretched out before her. She laughed joyfully reaching out to catch Lucy's little fingers as they danced like rain passed her face. "Grampaw say's this man had no joy in his life, and the sun never shone on his head. And he was too headstrong to accept any sunshine from the people around him who were willing to share their light."

Jake pursed his lips to one side trying to place this latest story. There was a striking familiarity to this tale that he couldn't quite place his finger on.

"That's why the man did not want Grampaw's help at first. He told him mean things to try and scare Grampaw away," Lucy scrunched up her face and leered comically at Izzy who attempted to do the same. Then passing her hand across her face Lucy smiled, "Grampaw knew that the spirits wanted him to help this fool. He told the man that when you put others before you, the sun will shine and you will never be alone. And so he helped the man to his feet, he brought him back to his home, and showed the man kindness."

Jake sighed realizing he had become the product of a cautionary tale. Scratching with the flat end of the pencil to his temple, he smirked feeling a little sheepish. Well at least the man had cleaned up the story for her.

"And because Grampaw showed the drinking man kindness, the drinking man showed him kindness back." Lucy raised her hands above her head to show light shinning down. "And the sun finally shined on the man's head!"

Lucy turned away from Izzy's finger sucking, to watch Jake with an air of curiosity. "Papa did you ever meet the drinking man that never had any sunlight?"

"Yep," he refused to look up as he focused on his sketch of the Teresa's flowerbeds.

Lucy's face filled with wonder, "What was he like?"

"He was a real jacka-. . . You wouldn't have liked 'im," he said flatly at the painful truth.

Jake looked up in time to see Teresa waving at someone riding up the pathway through the trees. As Jake rose leaving his sketchpad in his seat, he waved as well, as Sully brought his horse to a halt. Even in the evening hours with the light dimming in the orange sky, Sully's golden highlights shimmered. His blue eyes pierced through the shadows like two sparkling pools of liquid lapis.

"What brings you out here so late?" Jake stood at the shoulder of Sully's horse, with his hands on his hips.

"Letter came in addressed to Teresa," Sully licked his lips nervously. He cleared his throat before pulling the letter from the inside of his coat and handed it to Jake. "I told Horace I'd drop it off on my way home."

Jake tapped the corner of the envelope into his cupped palm, without giving it a second thought. Raising an eyebrow, he observed Sully curiously. "Cloud Dancin' ever tell Katie that story about the Drinking man?"

Sully chuckled shifting on the bare back of his horse as it jostled in place. "Yeah. He also told her about the Jealous man that almost ruined his friendship with his rich best friend, because he thought something was going on with his wife," Sully winked down at him as he turned the horse around. "I wouldn't be cross him though."

"Why's that?" Jake called after him as he waved goodbye.

"Looks like he's the only in-law that likes yah!" Sully shouted as he disappeared down the pathway into the trees.

Jake tapped the envelope once more, before actually turning it over and reading the address. "Teresa Morales!"

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Jake eyed her with an air of suspicion as she stared down at the envelope. She shook her head with irritation at the fact that her family still did not accept Jake as her husband. They had held off acknowledging the rectangular annoyance until Lucy and Izzy were settled in their warms beds. Jake knew it couldn't be good news, as they hadn't responded to the wire or letter that was sent when Lucy and Izzy were born. Teresa paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, now and then gazing at Jake were he sat on the sofa, with his elbows planted nervously on his thighs.

With a deep breath, Teresa ripped the parchment open and wretched the letter out. The silence was palpable as Jake stood crossing over to her. He slid his hand over her shoulder, and up her neck gently rubbing, letting her know he was there. After a while, her whole body slumped as her hand flew up to cover her mouth.

"Oh Jake," she said turning to face him. "My aunt is dying. She has pneumonia. . . I must go to her."

Jake immediately took her in his arms. As she laid her head against his chest, he let her sob, as he ran his hand up her back to hold her close. He heard the sound of the thick parchment of the letter crackle as it crumpled in her angry grasp. These were mournful tears, and yet they seem to stem from an anger he had never seen in her before. Pushing away from him Teresa smacked herself down onto the sofa as she tossed the letter resentfully into the fire. Her eyes seethed with the amber glow of the flames, until she looked up into Jake's furrowed face. "No matter how they have treated me, I must go to her. She is my aunt. How could I not?"

Together their eyes locked on the stairway leading up to their daughter's rooms. Jake was fully prepared to pack up everything and have them on the next train when he caught a glimpse of fear in her shaken expression.

"Teresa."

"No!" she cut him off wringing her hands in her lap.

"I won't let yah go alone," he knelt in front of her steadying her hands in his.

"Pneumonia is contagious. I will not risk them getting sick. Besides, with the hostility they have shown us I could never put them through that."

"I can't let you. . . Let's leave the girls with Clouding Dancin' and Dorothy, and I'll go with yah," Jake was adamant he wouldn't allow Teresa out of his sight.

Teresa leant forward pressing her forehead against Jake's. Her hands caressed his face before she brought him up so she could kiss him. Inhaling his intoxicating scent, as though she were memorizing him, she shook her head. "I will not be gone long. I promise."

With the exception of Lucy's abduction, Jake had never spent more than a workday away from his wife. A cool sense of alarm was radiating in his chest as he saw the resolve in her stance. She would be walking into the lion's den alone, which he knew wouldn't fair to well in his absence. Yet the prospect of either of his girls getting sick, caused him to shudder further. While he knew Lucy would be perfectly fine in Cloud Dancing's care, Izzy was still too young to be without at least one of her parents. It was with great pain that Jake sat beside her on the brocade sofa. He pulled her under his arm, feeling her body mold into his side, warm and safe. Squeezing his arm around her, he kissed the top of her lovely head. "I'll stay. I'll stay."


	3. Chapter 3

Though the sun lit up the town with its brilliant vibrancy, the atmosphere was charged with a cool alertness. The train depot was abnormally calm considering the emanate arrival of the No. 7, which promised the departure of Jake's heart. He found himself completely out of sorts, uncertain how to place his hands, or even where to stand. Watching nervously while Teresa adjusted her moss green dress coat, he took to shoving his sweating fists into the front pockets of his brown slacks. Lucy stood behind the wicker carriage quietly observing the shaky demeanor of her parents. She stared at her father as his throat bobbed while he swallowed back something she was too young to understand. They looked for all the world as if they wanted nothing more than to embrace one another, and yet they stood aloft holding something at bay.

Together they did an awkward dance as Teresa tried to step around Jake to get to Lucy and Izzy. She came down on her knees cupping Lucy's face in her hands. Though she smiled lovingly, there was a sadness in her mother's expression. It was then that Lucy saw the slight pinkish swelling under her mother's eyes. They were welling up, and as she kissed Lucy on the forehead, a single tear fell into her hairline. Tenderly Teresa wiped it away, fighting the tremble of her lips.

"You'll be a good girl while Mama's away. And help your Papa with Izzy," Teresa's voice quaked. "I love you sweetheart."

"I love you too Mama," Lucy's eyes grew round as she turned seeking reassurance from her father. But Jake had his back to them, his head was bowed, and his hand flew up to his face. Teresa rose sniffing as she peered into the opening of the carriage. Izzy slumbered deeply, tucked into her pale yellow blanket. Teresa ran her finger gingerly along, Izzy's round blushing cheeks, feeling her heart aching painfully in her chest. She forced herself to maintain every ounce of composure that she had at her disposal. The force of her attachment to her children and her husband was threatening to break every bone in her body, if she couldn't hold them to her.

Off in the distance the airy wail of the train's whistle spoiled the calm. It vibrated the ground as it chugged closer and closer to the ailing family. Teresa forced herself to turn away from her children. Jake continued to face away from them, his shoulders stood like a shield against this inescapable parting. She came up behind him sliding her arms around his flanks and resting her hands on his chest. He could feel her heart pounding into his back, and the pressure of her cheek as she pressed herself into him. Immediately he took hold of her hands, holding them tightly to him as he exhaled an exasperated huff of air. Grabbing the front of his ivory linen shirt, Teresa clenched it in her grasp unable to release him. Unable to extricate herself from his warmth. From his scent. From the very solidity of his body.

They were hardly aware of the train's halted presence as Lucy pushed the carriage closer to her parents. She wrapped her small arms around her mother and father's legs. Teresa held the back of Lucy's shoulder close, beginning to lose her resolve. It was unknown to them how long they stood in such a pose, as the Conductor began to shout, "All aboard coming aboard!"

As Lucy stepped back, Jake spun around catching Teresa off guard. He grabbed her by the shoulders, yanking her up on her toes. His lips encased her mouth as she melted into him, savoring his taste. Senses becoming alert little memory banks she held on to every movement and sensation. Bringing his mouth close to her ear she felt his warm breath panting as he whispered, "You come back tah me. You come back tah us."

Stepping back, she peered into the dark ashen blue of his eyes. It was then that she realized why he'd been hiding his face from her. The skin under his eyes was heavily lined and dark with swelling. He'd been holding tears back with as much ardor as she had been.

"You are in my heart," she managed taking comfort in the feel of his cheek beneath her hand.

"Wire us as much as you can," Jake huffed awkwardly. "I already spoke with Horace. He'll be waitin'."

"All aboard!"

These two words sliced through them, severing their bodies as she boarded the train. Adhering herself to the first available window seat she could find, Teresa mouthed how much she love them as the train trudged away from the station. Away from Jake, Lucy, and Izzy. Away from Colorado Springs.

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Celina pressed her face close to the dusty window as the train pulled into Colorado Springs. Her lips pressed themselves into a thin line, as she watched the couple saying goodbye. The man had his back to her but she had full view of the woman as she forced herself to leave him. Celina thought the whole scene rather melodramatic, until she saw the small child clinging sadly to a wicker carriage. Casting this bit of angst aside, she stood stretching the kinks out of her sore spine. Finally valise in hand, she turned narrowly avoiding being trampled by the same woman, as she hurried passed; in order to gain a window seat. Such sentimentality, she thought breaking out into the fresh sunny breeze.

The moment her heels struck the thick boards of the platform, her eyes searched in vain for the white haired Mr. Bray. All she found was this tower of a man, his face shadowed by his dark suede Stetson, and shoulders broadened by his burnt umber duster. As the train pulled away from the station, he waited until the caboose was well out of sight before he swept his daughter up on his hip. Despondently he pushed the carriage down the platform and across the tracks. Celina watched him blend into the bustle of the town, her eyes magnetized to his sway.

"Ms. Morrow?" an out of breath voice broke through her thoughts. She turned to find the silver haired merchant shambling up the platform.

"Mr. Bray?" she asked pacing towards him with relief.

The man eyed her grinning as to some unforeseen triumph. "You're the seamstress I've been waitin' for?" He waited a moment for her to nod before adding, "Well, let's get yah situated. You'll be stayin' up at the boardin' house."

She followed him down across the tracks, in the same direction as the man and his children. Mr. Bray's feet traveled more swiftly than she thought, for she found herself struggling to keep up. Her eyes drank in the new world around her as they passed the blacksmith's radiating heat from the fire stores, the milling town's folk studying her every detail, and seemingly out of place bank front. There was a finely hand painted sign in the windows of the emerald green trimmed window, which read, Grand Reopening. Her eyes blinked as they passed the barbershop and she saw the same man with his back to the door. Celina couldn't help herself as she paused momentarily to watch as he cradled his baby in his arms. He swayed gently back and forth before disappearing into the back of the shop.

"Ain't yah comin?" Mr. Bray's hurried voice startled her. "Still got a ways tah go! Heh heh heh"

"Excuse me," she half skipped catching up to his stride.

"That there's the Mercantile," he pointed in passing. Then pointing in the opposite direction, "And down there's the Gold Nugget. . . You'll stay outta there. And that big long building's the clinic. Yep we got ourselves our very own lady doctor!"

"Oh?" she her sights lingered on the long graying building with wonder. What would such a woman look like? As they neared the porch steps to the squat looking boarding house porch, Mr. Bray paused rubbing his finger under his nose. He hooked his thumbs into his slivery blue vest pockets.

"Just get yourself settled and then come on over and I'll show you where you'll be workin."

"Thank you Mr. Bray. I can't wait to get started," Celina forced herself to smile. As she watched him leave, she couldn't help peering further down the wide street as a smoldering, lion's maned, gem of a man, trotted down passed the Mercantile and disappeared into the corner doors of the barbershop. She was beginning to revel in her decision to come.


	4. Chapter 4

There was an eerie quiet to the barbershop as they walked in. Like a dream, everything was exact, as it had always been, and yet nothing was the same. A feminine warmth was missing, from the stark hardness of the shop. Jake stared up at the landing of the stairs, expecting to hear her hurried heels knocking around the top floor. If it was this hard to be in the barbershop without her, the ride out to the homestead would be pure torture. Finally, his eyes settled on Lucy as she lingered around the bottom of the steps, with her little head bowed in thought. She kicked the toe of her boot into the foundation step, before heaping herself onto it with an exasperated sigh. There would be no warm milk the way her mother made it tonight. No patient gentle hands to painstakingly pick and comb each of her onyx curls into submission before bed. The sweet velvety melodious sound of her mother's voice would not coax her into a slumbering sleep for many nights to come.

Jake took a step toward Lucy, about to whisk her up into his arms, when Izzy stirred. Her shut lids squeezed together and her nose pinched with an irritated air. Jumping into action Jake gingerly lifted Izzy from her carriage and cradled her in his arms. Her little hands stretched out grabbing hold of the front of Jake's ivory shirt. She grasped the wrinkled linen in her tiny hand, flooding his mind with memories of Teresa's departure. As the curtain of dark chocolate lashes parted, revealing two large orbs of russet amber gems, Jake felt his entire body wilt. Teresa's eyes looked up at him, wrenching his heart into pieces. As the last of Izzy's drowsiness melted away, her legs began to squirm against her swaddling blanket. Slowly Jake swayed back and forth attempting to calm her. With his free hand, he helped her to release her grasp on his shirt. He held her tiny porcelain hand in his, pressing her tiny fingers to his lips. Yet still she squirmed against him, with an irate sense of movement.

Jake pursed his lips, slightly perplexed, as he made his way to the back room behind the curtains. Straining to hold on to the fraying strands of his nerves, he lay her down in her open cradle. Mentally preparing himself, he checked her diaper, breathing a rather dramatic sigh of relief. Dry. Izzy's pink bow of a mouth, twisted once more releasing the beginnings of a white-hot fit. Frantically looking about him, he'd hardly noticed Hank shove the curtains aside. He leaned into the square alcove with his mouth stretched into a rueful grin. However, as Izzy let loose with a volatile scream, his eyes winced with discontent.

"Sounds hungry!" Hank yelled over her anguished cries.

Jake ceased in his quest placing his hands indignantly on his hips, "I can see that Hank!"

"Here Papa," Lucy walked steadily into the room holding a small bowl of prepared infant food in her outstretched hands.

Jake smoothed the back of Lucy's head as he kissed her on the forehead, "Thank you, honey."

Strenuously, Jake sat Izzy in her highchair, as she wailed loud enough to bring the whole town to its knees. He took the bowl from Lucy and proceeded to attempt to scoop small spoonfuls of the goop into Izzy's wet mouth. After five minutes of Hank's unhelpful advice and globs of mush falling form Izzy's crying mouth, Jake hung his head. Teresa had only just left and he was already in over his head. For the first time in seven years, Jake's mind pleaded for the numbing calm that could be found in the smooth amber liquid of Hank's whiskey. Hank raised a sandy brow at the expression on Jake's face. This was bad; he thought suddenly wondering where Jake's wife was.

"Where's yah woman, Jake?" Hank took a step closer to the wailing child.

Without looking up to answer, Jake raked his fingers through his hair, "her aunt's dyin'. . . She went tah be by her side."

Izzy's wails began to die down into racking sobs, as Lucy danced her fingers like rain in front of her face. Eyes swollen with fat droplets of salty tears, Izzy settled suddenly mesmerized by Lucy's playful movements. She dropped her voice down into her authoritative narrator's tone, "Once there were these two fools, who delighted in making mischief with each other. Each one tried to out do the other, by finding ways to splash the other with beer!"

Hank's mouth dropped, as Jake covered his face in his hands. While Lucy continued she wiped gingerly at Izzy's tear stained face with her dress sleeve, "Grandpaw says it got so bad, that one day, one blew up on the potty!"

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The interior of the Mercantile was a nice cool calm from the busy heat outside. Even with the wide double doors swung open, it seemed an invisible barrier held the bright waves of heat at bay. Celina propped her elbow up on the sewing table as she watched one dowdy bonneted patron after another, none to casually, pretend to shop nearby her. She could feel their eyes measuring her against the ruler that was her predecessor, Emma. Although Mr. Bray had warned her about this, and in fact relayed the entire story to her, she felt irked by the comparison. She could hear their hushed whispers as they debated over who contained the most beauty, she or Emma.

Celina continued to bury the outrage of this down in the core of her stomach. She needed this job, as she could never return to Denver again. The memories of what she had done sent a chilled ripple of shame up her slender back. Shaking her head, she attempted to erase those storming scenes from her past. With a sigh, her mossy green eyes settled on Mr. Bray's stern stare. He was beginning to regret his decision to bring her here. She wasn't bringing in the sort of business he had hoped for. Eyes darting back down to his cash box, he closed the tin lid, before locking it.

"Um, yah know Ms. Marrow," Loren began rubbing his chin, "might help if yah mingled ah bit with the customers."

She nodded about to rise, when the storm of a child's feet raced into the store, followed by the tired footfalls of her father. Celina froze where she sat completely in awe of the man's presence as he swayed through the doors. His black boot-flared slacks tailored nicely to his narrow hips as he sauntered up to the counter, addressing Loren. Her eyes drank in the fine strong arch of his back, under the wrinkled satin of his charcoal gray vest. With his back to her, the baby in his arms watched her over his shoulder. Her wavy tresses flared with the hue of saffron flowers and her skin was drastically pale, even for one so fair. Celina felt her heart flutter as she absently curled her white finger around her own ruby locks.

"What're you so dressed up for?" Loren smirked, eyeing Jake's dress clothes.

"Nothing, this all that's left that don't got spit up on it," Jake sighed with a strong exhale. His hand rubbed Izzy's small back as she stuck her fingers in her mouth. "She ain't eatin' much."

Celina nibbled on her bottom lip trying to will this man to turn around. She was about to give up hope when a small child bounced up in front the sewing table. Her opalescent blue gray eyes survey her with suspicious question. Celina looked from the ebony haired girl to her auburn haired father and back. The girl's skin was a light café au lait shade of cream, which complimented her soft round features. And her round blushed lips curled up into a rather fetching grin.

"Are you the new seamstress, everyone is talking about?" her brows rose.

"Lucy!" Jake turned around seething under the brim of his black hat.

Celina snapped her attention back to the man whose face had been eluding her for so long. His eyes flickered with the same luster as the little beauty, which was now pursing her lips and shifting her gaze between her father and Celina. She was taken aback by the square narrowness of his jaw, and the rather inviting shape of his curled round lips. Although he seemed not to notice her, he delicately asked that Lucy apologize.

"I'm sorry," she smiled completely unfazed. "So what's your name? I'm Lucy."

"Celina," she gave the child a wiry smile. "And who's this?"

"Jake Slicker Ma'am," Jake nodded to her with the same curl of the mouth as his daughter.

"He's the mayor too," Lucy beamed proudly, before the candy jars caught her attention. Loren followed close behind her, crinkling a sheet of parchment into a cone.

"Mayor?" Celina smiled showing just a hint of her teeth. She stood and walked around the sewing table closing the gap between them. "And this little darling?"

Jake repositioned Izzy in his arms so she could see the woman addressing her. "This is Izzy."

"She certainly is a beauty. And she looks just like you," Celina's murky green spheres peered up into his own. Now that she was close to him, she could smell the faint scent of leather, Spanish cigars, and musky shaving tonic. And an underlining fragrance of roses, which seemed to be fading away. She observed the smoothness of his alabaster skin as it stretched around his strong neck. It was then that she noticed he was watching her with some degree of uncertain alarm. He took a step back pinning himself against the counter.

"I'll put it on your account, Jake," Loren broke in as he handed Lucy a basket filled with infant food, soap, and Lucy's bouquet of sugar candy. "Fraid Hank bought the last of my cigars yesterday. . . So when'da think Teresa will be comin back?"

Jake cleared his throat turning awkwardly away from Celina. "Just got a wire from her this mornin'. Her aunt died in her sleep. She'll be away for the rest of the week, looks like."

"S'ah shame," Loren shook his head. He peeked up at Celina as she strolled over to the threshold of the wide doorway.

Izzy began to fidget in Jake's arms, turning her head into his chest with a growing agitation. Jake pushed her up so that her cheek rested against his. He frowned with concern as he and Loren exchanged worried glances. "She feels a little warm."

"It's a warm day. No sense frettin' over weather," Loren gently pressed his bent fingers to Izzy's cheek. "Maybe tah be on the safe side."

Jake nodded gesturing for Lucy to walk ahead of him, where he could see her. As they passed the threshold, Jake nodded to Celina without looking her in the face. There was deep unease vibrating between them that he couldn't place. With his free hand, he reached out and took hold of Lucy's dress sleeve as they crossed the busy street to the shaded walk of the clinic. Jake shuddered inwardly, as he lead Lucy towards the clinics door. He could feel her eyes on him, and he wished for all the world that Teresa would come home soon.


	5. Chapter 5

The heat droned into the open window in waves. As the air stood still and stagnant, it weighted down on her like a thick wool blanket. Uncomfortably she pulled at the wrist-long sleeves of her black mourning dress. She pressed her back into the foot wide adobe window seal, as she entwined her black lace covered fingers into the wrought iron gate, which stood in for glass panes. Teresa felt like she was caged into an elegant prison. Her head tilted back as she observed her surroundings with a tortured air. The high sunflower toned plaster walls seemed to feed her melancholy. How she wished to see the vibrant powder blue walls of Jake's and her bedroom.

The furniture of her room only served to frighten her, with their foreboding ebony craftsmanship. A long thick chest of drawers supporting a rather large warped mirror framed in the same ebony braid sent a chill down her spine. She couldn't help but draw the line of contrast between it and her white lady's vanity, which Jake had especially made for their first anniversary. Worst of all was that monstrous bed, looming over the entire room. The nearly black wooden headboard stretched up more than half the wall like a great tombstone. Its four carved posts reached up with spiraled unicorn horns, waiting to impale. She didn't relish spending another solitary night in that vast expanse of a bed. Teresa missed their medium bed, with the shallow dip worn into her side, because Jake often nestle half over her at night. His deep warm breath exhaling against the back of her neck, as he wrapped his arm and leg around her body.

This world had become unfamiliar and the malice shown on her arrival was near to overbearing. They clucked their tongues behind their hands at her "fancy" dress coat. The shaded bonnet she wore to shield her skin from the harsh sun was laughable. Her female cousins sneered with far too much glee, when she removed her sunbonnet revealing the tiny silver hairpins, which held her midnight locks in place.

"Pocha!" they snickered as she passed them into the waiting arms of her cousin Carlos. He forced a smile as he guided her down the narrow plaster hallway to what would be her reclusion from her family's prying eyes. With her things settled, Carlos eyed her with sad relief.

"You are more beautiful now, than last I saw you," he beamed kissing her cheek. "How is Jake and my little nieces?"

Teresa reached into her traveling valise and produced a silver framed picture. There they sat, a family of four, seeped in black and gray. Teresa sat with her hair half up, and Izzy sitting rather bored in her lap. Lucy sat swung over Jake's thigh with her little arm stretched up and around his neck.

"Ah," Carlos's expression softened. "You are all smiling."

This was the last shred of happiness Teresa would feel before she entered her aunt's sick room. '_Eres una nina muy tonta_!' Her aunt's admonishment from all those years ago still stung deep down in her heart. Jake had asked her numerous times what her aunt had said, only to be refused with aching tears. Now as she came upon the woman who had once held so much sway with her, she froze. Even from this distance, she could tell that her tia was gone. Her lifeless arms remained unmoved at her sides. Fingers long and elegantly arched into the feathered down of her royal blue quilt. The upper half of her body was propped up on three large white pillows, deathly still and gone. Teresa closed her eyes with defeat. She was too late to make amends. Too late to say her farewells. Even in the finality of this moment, Teresa wouldn't have closure. As she reached out to caress her aunt's stilled hand, all she found was the rigid unmoving stiffness of rigor. Hanging her face in her hands with disbelief, she allowed herself to weep.

Teresa didn't crave their forgiveness or their company now. The only person she had wanted to mend her relationship with was gone. She owed the other's nothing. Her heart was with Jake, Lucy, and Izzy. Her life was in Colorado Springs with her family and friends. Wiping the tears away from her cheek, she approached her aunt. With a shaky hand, Teresa smoothed away the silvery curls from her aunt's forehead, where she gently pressed her lips. Backing away, she sighed.

"Pride kept you from meeting two of the most beautiful and wonder little girls, you would have ever known. Yes, it was true what they said about Jake. But you would have known him for the man he is today. A good man. A wonderful husband. A loving father," she was growing angry now, and her voice trembled with more tears. "But my girls haven't miss anything by not knowing these prideful people. There is a whole town of family that loves them. They have the most wonderful grandfather anyone could ever hope for! A town full of uncles, aunts, and cousins, who won't ridicule them and make them, feel small. . . . I am guilty of this pride as well. But I thank God that someone was able to open my eyes. I thank God that Guillermo brought me to Colorado Springs! From this moment on I will never look back."

Bowing her head in farewell, she turned pausing momentarily at the end of the bed.

"I love you. . .farewell mi tia. Farewell."

Now as she sat waiting for Carlos to take her to the telegraph office in town, she felt an odd tingling sensation emanating from her heart. Once Jake had told her when their children were born, he felt as though they were all attached to one another by an invisible silver thread. It bound them to one another, rooting their hearts as one. Teresa sighed feeling her thread aching for her children. Aching for Jake.

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The silence was palpable as they stood side by side, near Michaela's desk. Murmuring with vibration the rush of the town seeped through the walls, making them feel like they were under water. Jake and Lucy watched in alarmed silence as Michaela pressed the bronzed bell shaped knob of her stethoscope to Izzy's chest. Seconds ticked by in a slow procession, until she finally straightened from leaning over Izzy. Izzy remained on her back, sucking absently on her fingers as she stared up into Michaela's now smiling face. She rubbed the child's little chest as she reached for her glass thermometer. Gently, Michaela held the instrument up under Izzy's arm. Without taking her attentions from Izzy, Michaela addressed Jake.

"Izzy's a bit thinner than I'd like. What has she been eating lately?"

Jake cleared his throat nervously, "I've been tryin tah get her tah eat that infant food, Loren sells. She spits most of it up. So we've been feedin' her mashed foods."

"Are you still giving her milk?" Michaela removed the thermometer, holding it up to the light from the window. "Just as I thought. . . A slight fever. There's no need to panic just yet."

Jake immediately lifted Izzy up into his arms. "Teresa was givin' her milk from the cow. But we prepare it the way you told us too."

Michaela smiled as she crossed to her apothecary's shelf. Pulling a glass honey jar from the cherry wood ledge, she removed a small parchment pouch. It rustled with a crinkling sound as she handed it to Jake. "I want you to make a tea from these herbs and give it to Izzy before you put her down for the night."

Jake pressed Izzy's stomach to his chest as he soothed her back. He handed the parchment to Lucy, who pocketed it within the folds of her skirts. "Was it the infant food?"

"Partly, yes. Izzy is in transition from infant to toddler. She can start eating heartier but soft foods now. I suspect the fever is brought on from her working herself up," Michaela smiled crookedly, running her fingers through Izzy's autumn curls. She felt a gentle pang in her heart as she recalled being able to hold Katie, the way Jake was holding Izzy. Turning to grace Lucy with an encouraging expression, Michaela sighed, "you remind your father, Lucy. Don't let him forget Izzy's tea."

Lucy nodded up for the challenge. Jake rose dipping his thumb and forefinger into the small pocket of his vest. The thick metal coins clinked together as he dropped them into her open palm. "That cover it?"

She nodded opening the clinic's door for Lucy as she lifted her full basket and marched out to the walk. "When do you think Teresa will be coming home? Sometimes children act up when they know someone's missing."

"I can't get her tah sleep at night," Jake started as he paused in the doorway.

"Tuck her in with one of Teresa's shawls. That might help."

Jake nodded tipping his hat to her as he began to stroll out. As his gaze reached down the street, his eyes settled on the wide-open doorway of the mercantile. There she remained leaning against the wall, watching him. His mouth went dry as he turned back to Michaela.

"Dr. Mike?" his voice quivered with uncertainty.

"Yes, Jake?" her brows furrowed as she read the agitated and yet curious expression on his face. His mind seemed to be cycling with some kind of indecision, before he shook it all away.

"Never mind," Jake pressed his lips into a line of a smile. "Never mind."

As Jake and Lucy stepped down from the walk and into the bright spotlight of the sun, Michaela peered down the street to the mercantile, as Jake had. She saw the woman, the seamstress that Loren had hired. The woman's eyes followed Jake as he towed his children toward the wagon sitting just beyond the Gazette. Michaela rested her hands on her hips with an uneasy dismay. She was sure she wasn't witnessing what she thought she was. However, she couldn't shake the sudden nagging feeling, that something wasn't right. It was resolved in her mind before she ever closed the clinics door.


	6. Chapter 6

The night blood of the surrounding woods hummed with the melody of the early summer night. A fat moon sat heavy in the shifting cobalt belly of the sky. The earth bellow lit up like a stage, with the hues of honey bright light. Yet with no breeze, the heated air filled every space like thick molasses, suspending the world in a lazy frame. As with the sour came the sweets, as the lush flora emitted its ubiquitous fragrances. Wild and peppery the scent of rosemary pushed against the high sugary soft notes of the night blooming jasmine. They fought and dispersed under the brute musk of the surrounding hawthorns and wormwoods of the copse, by the terrace. This was a lazy night even for the nocturnal creatures, as the sudden muteness of crickets, owls, and critters fell by the wayside. The world was still.

Jake wilted under the heavy atmosphere, as he undid the cuffs of his white dress shirt and rolled back the sleeves. He smiled at the disarray of his clothes, wishing Teresa were there to witness it. It always set her expression into that of a stalking lioness, intent on devouring her prey. One of her finely shaped brows would rise slightly, as those velvety russet eyes, drank in the sight of him. His silk vest hung open, over his untucked dress shirt. The wilting wrinkled square collar of his shirt, unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest, exhibiting the wax of his skin. It was his throat she was after. How she delighted in running her fingers down the column of his neck, pressing her warm lips up under his Adam's apple, then down along the sweep of his clavicle. Her nails gently grazing the smooth texture of his skin as she slipped her hand beneath his open shirt where she could feel his heart pounding into her palm. And all the while Jake's electric gray eyes burned like a blue inferno, as he watched her lush rose petal lips part. The warmth of her labored breath licking at his skin thrilled him. Filled him with an aching need to push her chin up to meet his face. After all these years, she still lowered her thick midnight lashes, as her warm tinted complexion blushed. She always smelled of roses. Tasted like roses, and for the rest of his life the sight of that blooming flower would send him to craving her as much as she craved him.

Jake steadied himself on the rail of the terrace. His knuckles reddened as he gripped the thick slab of wood. As the last bits of her memory melted from his mind, he exhaled with a huff. It was time to admit it wasn't Izzy keeping him up at night; it was the absence of Teresa. It was killing him that he couldn't touch her. That he couldn't revel in her scent and taste. Still he supposed it was worse before they were engaged, when she was within his reach but he couldn't lay a hand on her. The paper of her latest telegram crinkled in his pants pocket jabbing him in the thigh. Two days before that dreadful woman would be buried. Three days before he'd drag his wife home and come hell or high water would she leave their bed. Their bed. He hadn't slept in it since she'd gone. Just the thought of turning over into the shallow dent where she should be, tightened the vise around his heart.

"Mayor Slicker?" her voice sliced him down to the bone.

How deep was he that he hadn't heard the hooves of her horse ride up the pass? There was something atrocious about the way she smiled down at him from her barrowed mare. Under the paleness of the champagne moon, her hair glowed like crimson satin, braided as a thick crown around her head. She must have been riding heavily for straight wisps of hair clung down framing her angular face. Her snowy complexion blushed with exertion as she wiped at her brow. Celina stretched her curvy slender lips into a crooked grin. "I think I got turned around."

Jake straightened forcing himself into a close-lipped smile. His eyes arched as he took her in. "What're yah doin' out here at this time of night?"

She shrugged her petite shoulders, with a laugh, "I couldn't sleep. Sometimes a nice little stroll helps, but I thought hell your out in the sticks Celina. Strolling on horse seemed just the ticket."

Jake smiled at her crisp response. His feet moved of their own volition towards the bobbing head of her mare. He took hold of her bridle lightly soothing the velvety tufts along the horse's brown sugar hued nose. "Yah shouldn't be out ridin alone like this. Next time stay close tah town. Yah never know who's lurking around in these woods."

Celina looked around her observing how the vibrate colors of the various and sundry flowers seemed to glow under the night sky. Leaning forward she dared to lock her murky emerald gaze to his storming opalescent eyes. She lowered her voice seductively, "Then it's a good thing I happened into your neck of the woods."

"Papa?" Lucy stood in the open doorway rubbing her eye.

Jake immediately dropped the mare's bridle and darted up the steps to Lucy. He lifted her up into his arms as she wrapped him in her embrace. He turned momentarily back to a pouting Celina. "Good night Ms. Marrow. I'd ride straight back into town if I was you."

Celina nodded venomous as a viper as he turned his back on her. But the little beauty in his arms, eyed her with disarming clarity. Lucy's gaze narrowed with warning at the woman until she turned her horse around on the stone walk. A silent gauntlet was cast down this night. When the last flash of the mare's tail disappeared into the dark alcove of trees, Lucy nestled into her father's neck sighing warmly against his skin. "When is Mama coming home?"

Jake nudged the front door shut with toe of his boot, "Just three more days, Honey. Three more days."


	7. Chapter 7

Fresh and brisk the air chilled with a welcome relief from the sticky heat of the night before. The sporadic shade provided by the shifting canopy of the surrounding oak trees, offered a sanctuary from the bright sun to those dining at the café. Wafting deliciously throughout, the savory spice of Grace's fried chicken beckoned to every mouth within distance. His thumb and forefinger plucked the crisp skin releasing tiny tendrils of steam from the moist meat on his plate. Tossing the scrap into his mouth, he allowed the skin to settle on his tongue, savoring the brackish juices of the buttery lard it had been fried in. His mouth salivated as he chewed the decadent treasure before swallowing. Jake sighed beginning to feel a little more at ease.

Reaching down once more he plucked at the tender meat, feeling the sizzling heat as the buttery juice dripped onto the pads of his fingers. He blew softly on the moist chunk of chicken. Testing it to his bottom lip he smiled as he fed the delectable morsel into Lucy's waiting mouth. She pressed her lips together smiling cheerily, obviously sucking every ounce of butter and fat she could from the meat before chewing. With a swirl of onyx curls, she turn and ran off to join Katie and the others playing by the fence separating the café from the wagons pass.

"Stay where I can see you!" Jake called after her, as she pulled herself up onto the fence next to Katie.

Izzy yelped as she reached out her hands in Lucy's direction, but Cloud Dancing's hand gently held her firmly on his lap.

"You're all set tah leave me now too, huh," Jake muttered to Izzy, wiping his fingers off on his napkin. He swallowed the lump in his throat, suddenly loosing his appetite. Leaning back, he hung his arm over the back of his chair as he proceeded to watch Lucy as she conversed with Katie. Now and then she seemed to loose her balance on the rounded wood of the fence only to have Katie's hand fly up protectively to steady her.

"You are only causing yourself more harm," Cloud Dancing warned him as he held Izzy's milk cup up to her lips. Her tiny ivory hands lay on top on his dark bronzed skin, learning to hold her cup up as well. "Crowding the young one will not fill the void you are feeling."

But Jake wasn't listening as he narrowed his eyes, mental measuring the height of the fence, "That's not safe is it?"

"Jake, I'm surprised at you!" Grace chided him swatting at his arm with her blue and white checkered cloth. She moved to stand behind him as she waved to Lucy and Katie. They waved back, laughing as they clung to their perches. Grace swayed her head close to Jake's ear, "Yah know. . . She's not gawn forever. 'Sides! It'll do yah two some good tah be apart a little while."

Cloud Dancing nodded in agreement while Izzy focused all her attention on sticking the long round red and brown beads of his necklace in her mouth. Jake rolled his eyes leaning his head back in Grace's direction. "Cuse me for not wantin to have tah take my child tah Dr. Mike's every week."

"I wasn't tawkin about Lucy," she said wiping at nonexistent crumbs. "Yah know what they say! Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Jake opened his mouth about to protest when she sashayed close to their table. Celina smiled brightly at Jake and no one else, eliciting a suspicious look from Grace.

"Mayor Slicker!" Celina greeted him completely ignoring Grace and Cloud Dancing. "It was very nice talking to you last night."

He visibly winced straightening himself in his chair. He could feel the outrage on Grace's face, but it was Cloud Dancing's that he peered into. The man was shocked and trying to recover by pulling the beads from Izzy's mouth. Jake could tell Cloud Dancing was trying to see the situation for what it was and not for what it appeared to be. Pressing his lips into a thinly forced smile, he attempted to discourage her by shoving a large mouthful of crumbling butter-laced cornbread into his mouth.

Her ruby locks were gathered loosely onto one side of her head, spilling over her shoulder and stopping just above her breast. Celina's slender white fingers combed through her perfectly straight crimson hair. "It was so sweet of you to worry about my safety. You're quite the gentleman."

"EmmmHmmm," Grace raised an eyebrow to Celina, having recognized the woman's true face. "I'm sure **MRS. Slicker** thinks so too."

Celina slithered around Grace, wearing a mask of innocence as she came to stand by Cloud Dancing. She came down on bended knee attempting to steal Izzy's attentions. Stroking the child's crown of lazy waves, she elicited a fond response from Izzy. "She's such a dear. You're very lucky to have such a beautiful little girl."

With a start, Cloud Dancing observed the woman more closely. He looked beyond the façade of prettiness and into the deliberate motion of her actions and words. He could not be sure but it seemed she had just slighted Lucy in some way. Shifting his gaze questioningly at Jake, he saw the apprehension building in Jake's stature. This woman's advances were making Jake very uncomfortable. Jostling about in his chair, he shoved as much food in his mouth as possible to avoid addressing her in any affirmative way.

"Would you mind if I hold her? I do so love children," before waiting on an answer she gently lifted Izzy from Cloud Dancing's lap forcing the two men to rise with her. Jake swallowed hard as he and Cloud Dancing gated around her uneasily, waiting for Izzy to erupt. But the child remained unfazed resting on Celina's hip, as she continued to soothe Izzy's fiery tresses. She swayed to and fro, in much the she'd witnessed Jake do through the barbershop doors, the day she had arrived. "There now sweet girl. Celina's got you now. Aren't you just the sweetest little darling?"

Grace's mouth joined Jake's and Cloud Dancing's, as they stood agape. It was no secret that Izzy did not take to strangers well. As on more than one occasion, she had let loose with a volley of testy screams in the arms of unsuspecting adorers. Grace pressed her fingers to the side of her chin in shock, "Why I never seen that child take to anyone so fast!"

This alarmed her more than the woman's blatant disregard for Jake's martial status. An icy chill crept into Grace's heart spreading about her chest. She saw it clear as day, as she and Cloud Dancing exchanged worried glares. True to form, Jake had changed for the better since Teresa and the girls had come along. Now as she watched his body relaxing at watching this woman cradle his child, Grace felt a compelling need to yank Jake aside and lay down the law. For these days, Jake still had a volatile weakness, and it dwelled in his love for his children. This Celina, had crashed through a barrier by taking Izzy in her arms and Grace would be damned if she was going to bring another crashing to the ground. Now she'd seen what Dr. Mike had seen. She prayed Teresa would come home soon.

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"Look, she's gonna try to pick up Izzy," Katie mused bracing herself for the scream.

Lucy waited as well, positive this would further wedge that woman from obtaining her father's affections. As the catalyst fizzed out, Lucy fumed pushing herself off the fence. She pressed her back into the post narrowing her gaze as she observed her father smile warmly. This was not a forced smile as before, but a genuine crooked grin. Planting her feet, she rested her little hands on her hips, as she pursed her mouth to one side.

"Why don't yah like her?" the boy's voice shattered Lucy's thoughts with one flailed swoop. "She seemed like a nice enough lady the other day when we were at Mr. Brays."

His arms were folded along the rail of the fence, were Lucy had been sitting. His face was long and angular like Graces, yet somehow strong and dark like his father's. Michael's eyes sparkled with the darkest hue of wet loam, so that they appeared almost black. Yet on days when the sun glistened brightly, it lit up the tiny specks of coppery amber so that they sparkled beautifully from beneath the wiry curls of his lashes. Lucy blushed suddenly feeling rather self-conscious. Michael brought his chin down to rest on his arms as he tilted his face in order stare at Lucy in query. She felt her mouth move but no sound resounded from her lips.

"You're a boy, you wouldn't understand," Katie cut in, coming to Lucy's rescue.

"Michael!" Grace's voice sailed through the air, perking all their heads to attention. "I got some chores for you!"

Michael sighed coming around just stopping at Lucy's side. She dared to face him, feeling her heart pounding in her throat.

"Guess, I'll see you guys later," he said more directly to Lucy than Katie.

"Don't you make me call you again!" Grace warned sending Michael running towards her smiling form.

"Whatcha thinkin?" Katie asked dismounting into a patch of sour grass and fat emerald clovers. Lucy reached down to pluck a neon stem from its clover bed. She broke the delicate yellow flower off and strung it over her ear before chewing on the remaining stem. Her face sucked in as the sour dash of fluid stung at her tongue and tightened the sensitive glands at the base of her jaw.

"I just want my Ma to come home."


	8. Chapter 8

***I am so sorry for the long wait. I just can't seem to shake off this pneumonia. It just keeps coming back. But now it seems to be less, Yay! Well, I thought since the show has guest stars I would have one too. So yes that is who you think it is, if who you think it is, is him. Ha ha! If your not sure and want to know just pm or review and I'll let you in. So hope you enjoy!***

Now as her shoulder jostled against the bottom frame of the window, she felt her heart lurch painfully. Her soul ached with the price of being severed from the only family she had ever known. With the life of her aunt extinguished like a spent flame, she no longer felt the rushing freedom she had felt in making her peace with the woman. Instead, guilt wrapped its webbed talons around her, choking out her resolve. Hadn't her aunt taken her in when her parents had died? Hadn't she been like a daughter to her, loved unconditionally, and kept safe? Teresa knew she had known the safety of a mother's love under the arms of her aunt. She would hold on to that, keeping it locked in the depths of her heart. What had transpired the days before her wedding must be released. However as sure and Teresa was that she had made the right choice; she knew she wasn't the only one that had been wronged. The veiled cloak of her thoughts must remain so until she reached home and they could shuck this cloak together.

Home. Colorado Springs was home. The bright emerald meadow scattered with jeweled flowers and the musical laughter of children. The laughter of her children. How her arms ached to hold them to her breast. To see Lucy's eyes how they looked like a blue sky under a gray storm, gleaming through her thick black lashes as she laughed. She was becoming more and more like Jake everyday. The way she crossed her arms on her little chest, how she only curled one side of her mouth up when she smirked, and the ever-endearing way she had begun to stand with her hands on her hips. And now she had Izzy. Teresa felt her stomach flutter for want of cradling her baby close to her heart. A perfect tiny little feminine copy of her husband, with a temper to match. Teresa couldn't wait to see the young women they would become and yet some small part of her wished to suspend them in time as her little babies.

Teresa gazed out at the rushing scenery as it flashed passed the window in a blur of sundry shades of greens, gold, and the slate blue hue of Jake's mooning eyes. She couldn't wait to surprise him with her early arrival. To feel his strong hands grab hold of her shoulders and pull her towards him. His chest rising and falling in excitement as he pressed his soft full lips against hers. She swallowed nibbling slightly on her bottom lip. How eager she was to completely immerse herself in all three of them. Finally feeling a sense of calm, she allowed herself to mold more comfortably into the rigid seat of the train. What she wouldn't give to hear one of Cloud Dancing's stories, to pass the time. Reaching her laced hand up and around her neck, she attempted to rub out the soreness from her muscles. It was then that she realized he wasn't sleeping, he'd been watching her.

Slowly, he pushed himself up from his stooped position, removing his suede slouch hat from its resting place just above his eyes. Two cerulean orbs, which appeared as though they had been snatched from a stained glass window, peered into her face from under their pronounced brow. Teresa felt taken aback at the severity of his face, which gave off the attitude of a tame cougar. For surely if a cougar could become a man, this man was it. His mouth curved softly between to parenthesis like folds, setting her at ease almost immediately. Coming down in thick flaxen tufts, his hair pushed off his broad forehead as he used his fingers to maintain whatever damage his hat had done. Brow drooping slightly, the man became animated as he adjusted his silk vest which looked very much like the silver scales of a fish, over his button down black shirt.

"I didn't mean to startle yah," his voice was gritty yet light as it cut smooth as a razor to her ears. "You just seem to be ridin over quite a hill of emotions, there."

"I am coming home to my family after not so pleasant a situation," she nodded wondering how it was that she had shared something so personal with a stranger."

"Sorry. . . Someone died, then huh," he gestured towards her black dress. "What was it? Family?"

She frowned recalling the ring of fire she had just escaped from, "They used to be."

The man took her in now, reading the fine expressions on her face as they changed from hopeful optimism into that of stormy skies. "Yeah, family. It's rough- when they love you."

Teresa turned her head once more watching the palette blur across her window. She saw no need to correct him just yet. Deeming it impolite to air out her dirty laundry before this amiable stranger, she gave herself a start. She hadn't even introduced herself. However, seeming to have already played off her reaction he extended his strong reddishly tanned hand.

"Randall McCoy," he offered tamely. "Although I suppose most folks would call me 'The Bullet'."

She allowed him to envelope her lace hand in his as he gave her a firm yet gentle shake. "Teresa Slicker. . . It is a pleasure, Mr. McCoy."

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'_There she goes again!' _Hank thought watching with a rather irked air, as Celina Marrow hustled down the dusty walk from the Mercantile, to the barbershop. Her blood red hair glistened like satin over her shoulder, as she ran her marble white fingers through the silken strands. Hank narrowed his icy shot gaze as he allowed himself to admit she did look extremely fetching in that emerald green dress. It was tailored perfectly to her slender arms and tapered to advantage over her breasts and slim hips. Not much of a meal, he thought as he scratched at the lion's scruff on his chin. Hank waited until the back of her scalloped skirts disappeared into the barbershop's open doors. Creeping closer to the steps, he looked up and down the street wondering if anyone else had seen her brazen behavior. In his opinion she had no business being in there unless she was in dire need of a shave, in which case he, Grace, Dorothy, and Michaela no longer had anything to worry about. Hitching his thumbs over the thick leather of his gun belt, he spit into the dirt. '_When had he joined the damn sewin circle?' _Well, he'd sized her up the moment he'd observed that spectacle from his shaded seat in the back of Grace's Café.

"Well, I just thought I'd come and see how my little Izzy was doing," her voice slithered out the open doors and slapped Hank across the face.

That was about all his growing conscience could stand, as his long legs bypassed the steps all together. Hank lunged to the barbershop not truly knowing what he had been expecting to see. As his golden locks crashed forward over his broad shoulders, he furrowed his brow at the sight of her. _'How the hell was she doin that?' _Celina and Jake turned startled by his rather ruckus entrance. She held Izzy close to her breast, with her small chubby legs spilling over Celina's petite arm. Izzy was completely at ease sucking nonchalantly on her fingers as she dreamily watched Celina's face.

"Somethin wrong?" Jake cocked an eyebrow, as he flipped his straight razor up and down into its sheath.

"I-uh," he straightened, combing his fingers through his thick waves. "I was just…" Hank gazed around the shop suddenly aware of a missing fixture. "Where's Luc?"

Jake strolled back towards the white porcelain basin and immersed his blade in the tonic solution. "She's been actin up."

As if on cue tiny, stomping footfalls could be heard overhead. They were angry and stubborn smacking down onto the wooden planks with such a force it caused dust to fall from the crevices of the ceiling. "Hold tight little soldier," Hank whispered under his breath.

"What's that?" Jake asked looking around for his broom.

"Horace!" Hank took steps putting himself between Celina and Jake. He used his body to force her to take a step away. "Pardon," he said half-heartedly, "Horace says you ain't been up tah the depot tah check on any new telegrams lately."

"I'm sure if Mrs. Slicker **cares** to send a telegram, Mr. Bing will bring it himself," Celina broke in.

"He's probably to damn busy!" Hank shouted the last word over his shoulder. He then turned to Jake looking him in the face. "Teresa might 'ave sent yah somethin' an' is waitin' on a replay."

Jake snapped his attention away from his search. Hands on his hips, he seemed to be wrestling with some kind of doubt, Hank hadn't seen in a long time. Finally, he nodded quickly crossing Hank and taking Izzy from Celina's arms. "Lucinda! You can come down now, we're goin to the depot," Jake called placing Izzy in her wicker carriage.

Lucy stamped down the stairs, her eyes burning like blue infernos at Celina Marrow. Hank fought to stifle his laugh as Lucy glared like a wronged demon at the woman on her way out the door, in front of her father.

"Watch the shop for me, Hank," Jake called behind him as he ushered his children out the door and down the walk. His voice trailed down the street, "Stop makin that face Lucinda!"

Celina sighed about to walk out behind them when Hank struck like a bolt of lightening. His hand clamped like a vise around her minuscule wrist yanking her entire body back with it. Her green eyes burned as she twisted like a snake, trying to writhe out from under the weight of an attacker. Hank only held on with every fiber in his body going rigid with anger. His other hand clasped tightly around her shoulder bringing her up to his face. Not a shred of fear, not even a drop of shock, occupied her face. Instead she glared up at him, in seething menace, daring him to let her go. Venous as a viper her pink lips snarled with utter contempt. It was all he needed to be sure; she should be working at his saloon not tailoring dresses at Loren's store among ladies.

"You're wrongin a fine lady, woman. An' I'm thinkin Luc didn't deserve that scoldin she got 'fore I got here, either," as he spoke he brought his face so close to hers that he could smell her. "Took a long time for Jake tah right himself. He's gonna stay that way."

It was then that her sneer mimicked what could pass for a smile in hell, "Huh, do you think he really loves her? Or maybe she was all to be had at the time. At least that's what they say… Mr. Lawson… yes I've heard about you too. Your past deeds aren't exactly unblemished from what I've heard. Why, I wonder, is a man like you standing up for a proper, as you'd say, lady?"

He tightened his grip causing her to groan in pain, "I won't hear yah utter no more poison against 'er. Or I'll toss yah out in the street for what yah are… And you'll keep yah distance from those girls and Jake too."

"Will I?"

Hank opened his mouth about to rail into her when something caught him off guard. His lips curled back into a smile as he leant his head forward and inhaled deeply. Brows raised, his narrowed eyes grew round with the knowledge he'd just uncovered. She attempted to wriggle free of him, knowing he'd broken through one of her tricks.

"So!" he grinned tossing her like a rag doll into the wall of the threshold. "That's how yah do it! That's why Izzy don't cry when yah pick her up!"

"You!" she fumed. "Don't you dare!"

"Scat!" he shooed at her until she was out on the walk straightening herself. "Get on outta here! I'll fix your wagon later."

Hank pulled a half-spent cigar from the inner pocket of his black vest. He crunched at it between his teeth as he plopped himself down into the barbers chair. That woman was nothing but tricks and twists, and the sooner she was gone the better. Striking a match he'd pulled from behind his ear against the sole of his boot, Hank lit his cigar. After two short puffs, he exhaled watching the billowing plumes rise up to the ceiling before dissipating into nothingness. _'Sooner than Teresa gets home.'_


	9. Chapter 9

He wasn't very fond of this sudden change in Lucy. As she plodded down the walk in front of the carriage, she kicked angrily at every pebble in her path, no matter how miniscule or non-existent. Now and then, she turned to glance in his direction with a glimmer of hot indignation flaring up in her face. After the last look of hurt was passed, Jake began to feel as though he had scolded her out of turn. Although he hadn't thought that banishment to her room was very harsh, considering the alternative his own mother would have given him. Jake shuddered at the thought, knowing he'd sooner take a razor strap to himself before he'd raise a hand to his children.

He watched her carefully now as she stepped down into the busy street where the walk ended. She wove her way through the strolling towns folk keeping her head down, with her hands flying up to her face every now and again. It was then that he realized she'd been attempting to wipe away tears. This was more that Jake's heart could bare as they reached the wide dirt road separating the town from the train tracks. With his hand maintaining control of the carriage, he came around grabbing hold of Lucy's arm. She jerked startle until she realized it was him and collapsed against his hip crying uncontrollably. Jake came down on his haunches taking her into his paternal embrace. Waiting patiently, until he began to feel the growing coolness of her wet tears saturate through the linen of his blue and white striped shirt, he took hold of her tiny shoulders. Very gingerly he held her back just enough to wipe at her face with his sleeves.

"Yah gotta tell me what on earth has been goin on with you, Lucy," his fingers curled around her thick curls, gathering them behind her shoulders and out of her flushed face. "You're not actin like yourself… Is it cause yah Ma's gone?"

Lucy shook her head trembling through her racking sobs of frustration. Eyebrows wrinkled over her large luminescent eyes, she looked up into his face completely disarming him. Jake could no longer stand the sight of his little girl in so much anguish, "Well, tell me. Honey, please what is it?"

"If- if Mama doesn't come back are you…gonna find someone else?" this revelation only seemed to break the dam, allowing a flood of tears to cascade down her face.

Taken aback, Jake couldn't comprehend fully what his child had just demanded of him. He considered a moment realizing how despondent he'd been since Teresa had been away. She had brought so much light into his life that once that beautiful flame had gone, he felt himself plunged into darkness, once more. Now holding his crying child in his arms, he chastised himself inwardly, for being so dense. "Lucy…Honey…I love your Ma. I've loved her from the first time I ever set eyes on her, and I'm gonna love her till my dyin days. Why nothin is more important to me than you, your sister and yah Ma. Yah got that?"

She only nodded pressing herself into him, seeking that comfort that had been robbed of her since that Marrow woman had entered their lives. Now she was certain when her mother returned everything would right itself. Her mere presence would repel that interloper from their company, and bring the light back into her father's now dimmed eyes. Jake gently stood taking her hand in his as he pushed the carriage across the dusty wide rode.

As they passed along the smooth dirt mound of the tracks, Lucy released Jake's hand running up to the telegraph office window. She stood up on her toes straining until Horace leaned out grinning sloppily down at her. "Hello Miss Lucy! I was about tah make a trip down to visit with yah! Got telegrams for yah."

"Horace," Jake called pulling the carriage up the last of the steps being careful not to jolt Izzy from her drowsy state. "Any telegrams?"

Horace pouted his lips out like a ducks bill, rolling his eyes comically, "I just said yah got some telegrams comin!"

Jake perched himself on his elbow in the window counter forcing Horace to stand up at his full height. Turning to rummage through the overflowing mass of papers and envelopes protruding from the wooden wall of cubbyholes, Horace sighed impatiently, "These two come in last night…like I said, I was just about to bring them over to yah."

"You mean you just let me sit down there all morning goin crazy!" Jake fumed realizing he could have had word from his wife hours ago.

"Wouldn't have mattered anyways," Horace held the cards absently to his stomach.

Jake snatched them from his loose grasp, "why's that?"

"Train ain't gotten passed Santa Fe yet. I've been wirin the closest station since those came through."

Jake's face went blank as he peered down at Horace's thick pencil scribbling.

"She's comin home early," he exhaled curving his lips up into a smile. Lucy gasped excitedly, taking the black string of licorice Horace offered her from the glass jar, he kept around for Samantha's visits home. Jake flipped to the next card, slumping his shoulders in defeat. "This says the trains been delayed for debris on the tracks," Jake looked worriedly down at Lucy's dying reverie.

"Don't you worry," Horace smiled nearly passed his ears at Lucy. "She'll still make it through if she boards a night train at the next station."

Jake shook his head at Horace, "I warned her not to do that 'fore she left… too dangerous for a woman travelin alone."

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Placing her hand shyly on his broad round shoulder, Teresa blushed at the feel of another man's hands on her waist, as he helped her from the iron grate of train's steps. The train was stopped 20 miles from the Santa Fe station out in the middle of sprawling acres of fallen dried straw grass, large cobble shaped stones, and pale yellow scorched dirt crumbling in gathered patches around any raised dehydrated vegetation. The sky was erupting in the hazy violet splendor of the gathering evening sky. Together, she and Randall waited as the rail hands located his horse from the stock car.

"I can not tell you enough how I appreciate your going out of your way to get me home," Teresa smiled brushing the loose ebony strands of hair from her face. However, the wind blew directionless bringing down even more loose tendrils, framing her face.

"Don't make a fuss. If I had two little sweet hearts like those girls," he insinuated the framed picture she had showed him of Jake and the girls. "I'd move heaven and earth to get to them. Sides' this Colorado Springs sound nice enough…for a visit at least."

Even under the dying purple hues which ushered in the darkening twilight, his hauntingly bright blue eyes sparkled under their heavy brow. His arms hung like bulky braided rope tapering down to his wrists, at his sides as he towered over her in the dimming light. Surely, there was nothing to fear from such a man as this.


	10. Chapter 10

Jake strolled the wagon seeing no particular reason to rush to an empty home. His elbows were practically resting on his thighs as they went along enjoying the break from the brightly burning sun. The evening sky was taking over as clouds blasted forth like the foaming crashing waves of night waters. Sizzling magenta cracks and cool violet hues ripped through the flood of slate waves dying the sky in a motley of brilliance. Jake allowed his mind to wander as Lucy's voice filled the background. She was scrunched down under the high bench beside Izzy. Her arms wrapped around the babe gently holding her in place as the wagon jostled about the unevenly worn road.

"The young boy warned the men, to leave the skunk be. But thinking him just a boy the men ignored him and swatted at the animal incurring its wrath. What's more, Grandpaw says only a fool thinks spring water could wash away a smell that bad," Lucy giggled half whispering the next line into Izzy's ear. "Now stripped down tah their johns they continued their journey still to stubborn to listen to a boy so young. But the boy knowing the importance of the task rode out away from the fools and let his good sense guide him."

Jake sighed at the memory. To this day, he continued to believe that the Reverend had faked crashing into that sign.

"…for the third time another yelled, 'That's the same rock!'" Lucy laughed as Izzy clapped her hands together.

He wanted to be mad however, his mind flew to other things, other plans. Teresa would be home in the next day or so, and Jake wrestled with the notion of asking Cloud Dancing to take the girls for the night. A nervous flutter grew deep down in the pit of Jake's stomach. Rubbing his thumb down along his jaw line, he wondered how he looked. He hadn't the time to properly shave himself, considering the amount of time combing through Lucy's ringlets took every morning. Unsure whether this sudden uncertainty in his grooming was the affect of Lucy's skunk story or his own reality he surreptitiously sniffed at himself.

With his guard self-consciously down, Jake had no time to notice the way the birds fluttered in a rush to escape the path of what was barreling down through the trees. As her horses flaring nostrils broke through the thicket, Jake instinctually braced himself shielding his girls from the unknown. The sudden halt of the wagon shattered Izzy's calm sending her into a screaming fit. Jake reached down plucking her up into his arms soothing her against his shoulder. As her racking sobs subsided slightly she tucked her chubby face into the crook of his neck seeking comfort in his familiar scent.

Jake turned a cool eye in Celina's direction as she smiled out of breath from her perch on the horses back. Wiping at her glistening forehead she brought the mare parallel to where Jake sat on the high bench. "I am so sorry," she exhaled her slender heart shaped face mimicked that of remorse. "I got lost again. I couldn't find the road and I guess I panicked."

"You fall from your horse too?" Jake gestured with his free hand at the purpling blush showing beneath the cuff of her wrist.

"Oh!" she modestly pulled at the hems of her sleeves. "No… but I do suppose I deserved it. Mr. Lawson warned me not to be too reserved with the cuts of his umm young ladies dresses. Rest assured I am at fault."

Jake nudged his head back in shock, continuing to rub calming circles into Izzy's back. "Hank grabbed you?"

"Oh you mustn't be harsh with him. I should have cut the bodices low like he'd asked," now she gathered her hair to her opposite shoulder, giving Jake a glimpse of the huge broadly shaped bruise blooming along the side of her neck.

Jake shifted uneasily. The news was a blow beyond a doubt. He'd known Hank to be hot tempered and considering his past, he was capable of manhandling a woman. However, things were different now. Weren't they? As Jake battled against the evidence before his eyes and the man he knew Hank to be, Izzy had turned toward Celina. Her arms reaching out to the woman in much the same manner she'd reach for Teresa. Now seeing the casual way Celina outstretched her arms to Izzy, Jake couldn't help but feel some sense of alarm. Feeling a gentle tug on his sleeve Jake glanced at Lucy's frightened face.

"I can hold Izzy Papa," she offered up her little palms to him. All the while her stormy eyes, poignantly round, shifted fearfully between his face and Celina's.

The atmosphere grew thick around them and the illuminating kaleidoscope of colors in the sky began to fade with the growing dusk. Handing a squirming Izzy to Lucy, Jake leaned back with his arm on the back of the bench, in order to face the woman head on. He took her in, as she smiled wantonly at him. Jake pushed the curved brim of his hat back on his head, "Where did Hank grab yah?"

Celina waved her hand as though clearing the air, "You needn't worry, I'm fine."

He squinted one eye, as he observed her fidgeting demeanor, while she backed her horse closer to the trees. However, a freak breeze pushed up behind her, eddying in the space between them before blowing up warm and familiar into Jake's face. His lips pressed inward and to the side while he considered the array of crooked information she'd fed him. Flipping back into position Jake grabbed hold of the reigns, turning his back to Celina.

"I need tah get my children home," he growled cracking the thick leather straps forcing the horse along faster and with purpose. He didn't wait for a response, nor did he turn back to be sure she wasn't following him. Clenching his teeth the entire way, he was unsure how to take any of what had occurred. She did seem to appear everywhere he was, and now this business with Hank. Weren't they rather flippant with one another at the shop? Then again, he couldn't know for sure what had transpired, once he'd left with Lucy and Izzy.

These thoughts plagued him, robbing him of his excitement to have his wife home. They followed him all the way to the house, and festered on his heavy shoulders while he ushered Lucy up the stairs. As they entered the front parlor, Jake slowly followed Lucy through the square alcove and up the steps. With Izzy sleeping soundly in the crook of his arm, Jake disappeared into the nursery's open doorway. He moved around their bedtime routine in a zombie state, pushing reactions and events together for his own dissection. Not an ounce of comfort could be had from laying Izzy down in her cradle. As he trudged from the nursery down the hall into Lucy's bedroom, he leaned into the door jam staring off into space.

Lucy timidly approached him tugging on his hand before turning around. She waited patiently while he stooped down to button the back of her nightdress for her. Jake crossed the room digging into her chest of drawers until he found her tiny fawned moccasins. Manipulating the velvety texture of the smooth leather between his fingers, Jake waited until she was tucked up in her bed. He reached up under the light linen fabric of her bed sheet sliding them onto her little feet like socks.

"Goodnight honey," Jake planted a warm kiss on Lucy's forehead. Her hands slid drowsily across his face as he pulled away.

"G'night, Pa…pa," she yawned.

Quiet as a mouse Jake crept from the room, reaching the hallway he bounded to his own bedroom. He crashed down in front of Teresa's vanity searching frantically among the fat glass perfume sprays, brushes and pins. The contents glittered up at him unlabeled but beautifully refined. Jake cursed under his breath. He'd bought all these things, why did nothing look familiar. How many times had he sat there and watched her getting ready every morning? Every night! Finally, it caught his eye sparkling in all its aquamarine hued glory, wedged between the crystal bowl she kept her silver pins in, and the mirror. His large fingers suddenly seemed awkward as he lifted the tiny glass vile. Exhaling with what he wished to be wrong, his thumb pushed at the angular cork, releasing the condensed intoxicating scent of his wife. He breathed her in clutching the tiny vile of rose oil in his hand.

She'd put drops of it in everything. In her makeup, in her shampoo when she washed her hair, in the bath water where she bathed, Teresa's rose scent. Now he was certain he knew how Celina had been able to hold Izzy without her screaming like a banshee. He'd smelled it on her in the road in the woods. Jake resolved never to allow her to catch him alone again. And he would make damn sure she never laid a hand on his daughter either.


	11. Chapter 11

***WARNING! It gets a little sultry after Teresa starts remembering in her dream ok. I really don't consider it to be graphic at all, only suggestive. But I'm WARNING you still. (Big Smile) so enjoy!***

"Looks like a Hunters Moon," Randall nudged the midnight charger into an easy canter.

Teresa peered up into the darkening cobalt sky, laced with the billowing cobwebs of black clouds. The fat pinkish hued orb lulled like a glistening rose crystal sitting on a plush velvet cushion. Cloud Dancing's steady gentle voice uncurled within the womb of her mind, pulling with it a most beloved memory. The blushing moon had lulled just over the shifting trees that surrounded Dr. Quinn's homestead. Their two families gathered under the roof of the porch, after quite a bountiful dinner, enjoying the warm glow under the soft yellow light of the oil lamps. Katie and Lucy sat on either side of Cloud Dancing on the steps, with their eyes brightly fixated on every word the man uttered. Sully and Michaela had nestled as close as their birch chairs would allow, sipping at their mugs of steaming hot coffee. From within the gentle creak of the bowed slide of wood permeated the wall as Matthew rocked an infant Izzy in his arms. Teresa had sighed leaning her head back against Jake's chest, listening to the sound of harmony. It had only taken one man to weave their lives together, as he took their daughters under his wing.

"This is what we call the Full Red Moon…It is a good time for fishing. That is why some know it also as a Sturgeon Moon," his hands gestured towards the ruddy orb rising up over the trees. The girls had excitedly begun requesting a night fishing expedition, which had been dutifully declined, due to the fact that everyone had been far too full.

Now as Teresa peered up at the same pale hue, which lit their way along the tracks, she shifted against Randall's stomach. "Actually, that is a Red Moon. The Hunters Moon casts in autumn," she bit softly on her lower lip.

She felt his body straighten before a light chuckle escaped his mouth. The muscles of his arms tightened like rock around her own as he steadied the reigns of the majestic black stallion. "Is that right?" the tone of his voice was that of wonder. He never questioned her knowledge of such a fact, yet merely continued on in his friendly and accommodating manner. "We should make it to the Santa Fe station by first light…so if yah feel like dropping off, go right on ahead."

His thigh clenched under her legs, as she nodded in agreement. She never felt so awkward and yet she was blaringly aware of his essence. Although Teresa was certain she felt no attraction to this man whatsoever, she was compelled to draw comparisons between Randall and Jake. Now and then as he leaned forward to adjust the reigns, his cheek inadvertently, brush passed her own scratching her skin roughly. Even on rare occasions when Jake deigned to allow his stubble to remain, the auburn bristles gave rather pleasantly against her skin. With the tilt and sway of the horses movements their bodies where much pushed together, once again setting her mind to wander. Although she supposed they were the same height, Randall was far more angular, sinewy, and hard. It made her miss the soft round muscle of Jake's arms, and the way his body molded to hers, rather than crash like a marble statue into her. And while admitting to herself that Randall's manufactured sandalwood mix of Eau de Cologne was rather pleasant, she'd give anything to immerse herself in Jake's fresh leather, talc, cigar, and musky mélange of scents.

Even the position, of which they rode, plumed into existence another memory. One that sent a warm tingle from the depths of her heart, intoxicatingly down into the pit of her stomach. As every sensation of the memory seduced her body into tranquil abandon, she yawned under the palm of her hand. The transition was seamless as her subconscious pulled her down, riding the reality of the present, to recall the past. Leaning back, Teresa no longer felt the tough ripple of Randall's chest but the solid warmth of Jake's. She remembered this day well, as she often chose to relive it at times…

The warmth of late summer had been held at bay over the canopy of thickly bounding oak trees along the path. Their jubilant wedding night although several months passed was still as fresh in their minds, as their attraction for one another. Jake strolled the horse mischievously, as he wrapped one arm around her. His palm pressed her belly bringing her back closer to him. Bodies molded he'd taken to running his lips along the slope of the side of her neck, breathing warmly onto her blushing complexion. She could feel his chest rising and falling from behind her, as his fingers began to press down finding her bellybutton. Sliding his hand back up and around the gentle swell of her hip Jake exhaled gruffly, close to her ear.

"Jake!" she'd laughed grabbing hold of his wandering hand and planting it on the flat round horn of the saddle. "We may never get there."

"Mmmmm, the horse knows where tah go," he voice hummed low and guttural, causing her entire body to erupt in drunken tingles. Just as he was about to continue his lusciously intoxicating assault on her bare neck, the line of trees broke, bringing them into the small clearing where the burnt rubble of the old stead once stood. Jake sighed in disappointment, "Well, that coulda taken longer."

With wicked purpose, he leaned forward pressing close to her before swinging himself down from the horse. It was clear Jake couldn't be detoured from his amorous ambitions as he reached up to help her down. His pearl gray eyes blazed from under the curved brim of his hat, picking up subtle blue hues from the cobalt of his duster jacket. Lowering her lashes, she set her gaze on the fullness of the delicate curve of his mouth as he smiled down at her, showing the smallest hint of his front teeth. Teresa stifled a tremor of desire recalling the places he kissed her with that mouth of his. She'd felt her face flush as she realized he'd been thinking the exact thing about her own lips. Although every fiber of her being wanted to give in to him as he penetrated the space above her, backing her into the horse's side, Teresa placed her hand to his chest. Jake froze, his smile widening off to one side. Covering her hand with his own he growled roguishly down at her, "Only makes me want yah more."

Together they traversed the uneven dirt path coming upon the brand new foundation of the new house. Rising up like a platform the first floor had been completed, holding up the bare ribs of what would be walls, and doorways. A cobble stone fireplace sat squat to one side, and bordered wooden framing that suggested a rather spacious yet cozy front parlor. As Jake helped her up the rudimentary formed steps, and she found herself stepping into the bones of their future home, Teresa held her breath. The front parlor was nearly half the size of the mercantile, and it seemed according to the maze of framed walls, a hallway leading down to two other shared rooms. Following her gaze Jake stepped in front of her sweeping his arm as he gave her the tour, "there's gonna be a pantry through that hall and a kitchen and dinin' room!" He pulled her excitedly to a square archway to the right of where they had entered, "And that…that leads tah the bedrooms on the second floor."

"Jake!" Teresa marveled taking in the expanse of what he had been creating. "It is more magnificent than I had dreamed."

"I hope yah dreamed of walls," he laughed pulling her into is embrace.

She had wanted to smile. Had wanted to playfully swat at his arm, but the warmth of his body had engulfed her. Before she knew it, his fingers had slid up her neck and entangled themselves into her loosely pinned hair. Teresa's breath caught in her throat as he brought down wave after wave of curling black satin, until her sable tresses rested fully over her shoulders and down her back. His boots clacked against the thick floorboards as he backed her closer to the gray cobble stoned fireplace. She had neither the strength nor the desire to stop him now as he combed his long white fingers through the onyx silk curling about the small of her back.

"So beautiful," the words were spoken as dark ripples, vibrating along the deep.

She'd reached up daintily unfastening the first three buttons of his pale blue and white striped shirt. Her palm slid up under the open fabric eliciting a fond exhale from Jake as he let his head fall back. Licking her lips, she gently caressed the slight curve of his Adam's apple, feeling the tremor of his throat as her tongue tasted the mingled salty bitterness of his skin. She could taste the soap and shaving tonic fresh on her tongue as she moved on pulling him down so that there mouths could join. A gruff grunt rose up from his throat, entering her mouth with his exploring tongue. They'd remain this way for a while, amorously roaming one another's bodies, until Jake had decided enough had been enough.

Teresa waited impatiently while Jake removed his blue duster and laid it out on the rough floor. Pulling her down under him, he'd smiled wantonly at her eagerness. Teresa had bit her lip, as she helped him to mold into her, as he groaned into her ear. They rocked into one another unable to maintain any semblance of restraint until a deep roaring rush erupted between them. The world was blazing with stars, unabashed release, and plenty. As always, Jake hovered above her, cradling the back of her head in his hands, while he peppered her face with one warm kiss after another. The frantic feverish desire had momentarily receded from his now mooning eyes.

"Mrs. Slicker," his voice was a low teasing whisper.

"Mr. Slicker," she smiled running her fingers through the thick tufts of his autumn hair. Nestling back into his hands she stared dreamily at his face through a thick curtain of lashes. He'd cocked one chestnut hued brow devilishly grinning down at her. The rakish spark in his eye told her he wasn't done with her yet. In fact, they had stayed out there so long, creating the dreams of their future, a small search party had come looking for them as the twilight sky began to fade into blackness.

Nearing the end of her reminiscing, Teresa yawned, pulling herself from her own self-induced dream. Feeling a pang strike at her heart, she smiled knowing the precious soul which had come of that carefree day. How she longed to hold Lucy in her arms at this moment, to cradle Izzy close to her heart, and to feel the strong cloak of Jake's body about her.

"Looks like we beat the train," Randall's voice rose softly bringing Teresa to full awareness. The Santa Fe station loomed vacantly among the growing dawn of the surrounding desert like wilderness. "You'll be home by dinner time."

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His arms hung heavily over the curved wooden armrests of the rocking chair. Legs extended outward the toes of his boots nudged at either side of the hallways walls. After such a rude awakening, Jake could no longer stand to be in the bedroom without Teresa. As silently as he could he'd moved the rocking chair from Izzy's nursery into the hallway between Lucy's open door and Izzy's. And there he'd slept fitfully dreaming up horrifying scenarios, in which Celina seceded in black mailing him in Teresa's eyes, as she had attempted to do with Hank. He cursed Loren for bringing her here. Had anyone bothered to bring her scandalous behavior up to the man? Well no one had bother to outright tell him either, yet he berated himself for not realizing her bravado for what it truly was.

As his subconscious wove the silver threads of his mind between sleep and wake, his dreams began to bleed out into reality. Eyes flickering back and forth between the hallway and the dream of Teresa's arms, Jake lost track of his thoughts. Allowing himself to fall deeply into the suspended lapis pond of his dream world, Jake found comfort in Teresa's caressing arms. Her hands brushed lightly at first slipping in under his open shirt, finding the coolness of his bare skin. Inhaling he could practically smell the condensed scent of roses as she ran her lips along the outer edges of his ear. It was only when he reached up to touch her that he realized she was more solid than she should have been. Jake pulled back startled as her arms recoiled leaving him in the lurch.

Pushing passed his haze Jake sat up rubbing his eyes in confusion.

"Teresa?" he called sleepily down the now vacant hallway. Disappointed Jake reclined staring fixedly down the narrow hall, feeling the vise of fear clenching at his heart. It was a dream. It was only a dream…Wasn't it?


	12. Chapter 12

_*I thought I might recap the story just in case. Okay so Teresa took a trip back home to visit her sick aunt only to find she had passed. But that didn't stop her from telling the aunt what's for! So Teresa tries to come home early on the train and meets Randall "The Bullet" McCoy. (My guest-star Steve McQueen). So they're getting along when the train is majorly delayed for debris on the tracks. Randall has his horse taken out of the stock carriage and decides to get Teresa (now his friend) the rest of the way to the Santa Fe station to catch a night train to Colorado Springs! (And a choir of angels sing) Meanwhile Loren hired a new seamstress (he didn't check her references tsk tsk) and she's taken a liken to Jake. (Baffled my mind too) J/K! She snaked her way into Jake's graces by making it appear that Izzy liked her. But Hank who's been suspicious of her all along confronts her. He messes with her pretty bad (she totally deserved it!) and she retaliates by trying to make Jake believe Hank beat her over a bad dress job. Jake discovers how Celina (sorry that's the home wreckers name) tricked Izzy into liking her and is now super paranoid about the whole deal. Also he's not been fairing to well without his wife. The wee lamb's been sleeping in chairs instead of his bed. So that brings us to the last chapter where Randall (Teresa is sitting in front of him on the horse) is bringing Teresa to the station by horse. She falls asleep remembering a past memory of her and Jake. (Which indecently is the conception of Lucy 'wink') And when she awakes they are at the station. Jake on the other hand has just woken from a nightmare which he is not certain if it was a dream or someone was actually there. (Catching my breath) Okay, I hope this helped if you got lost or detoured. Leave no man behind, I say. Well onward and upward. Or as Jake would say. "Huh?"*_

Resplendent the golden sheath of light illuminated the bedroom, casting her surroundings in brilliantly pale hues. She remained still in her bed watching the open doorway with a puzzled trepidation. Sniffing the air for the familiar aroma of steaming hot coffee brewed so strong she could practically taste the bitter grounds, mingled with the sweet syrupy rich hot chocolate, frothing thickly as it blended into it's thick sugary crème, she pursed her lips. Lucy furrowed her brow with disappointment while she strained her ears. Neither the crackling sizzle of fried eggs nor the crisp pops and bubbling of bacon could be heard. Very slowly, Lucy pushed herself up on her elbows, listening and waiting for the muffled humming of her father making breakfast in the kitchen below. Still not a sound, not a scent. Once again, she eyed the vacant doorway waiting for him to saunter in and perch himself against the frame with a smile. Nothing.

Without a preamble of thought, her feet swung out onto the floor and she shuffled across the glimmering room. There was a chill to the morning air which sent her small frame into an involuntary tremor as she reached the hallway. Lucy tilted her head to one side, deeply puzzled at the scene before her. Just a few steps from her door her father slept awkwardly sprawled out in her mother's rocking chair. The weight of his long legs, which stretch out smacking into the walls on either side, had brought the curled slide of the rocker up into the air. His arms had fallen to the wayside of the downward curved armrests, and the very tips of his fingers lightly grazed the maroon carpeted floor.

As she crept closer to him, she observed the fact that he had fallen asleep fully clothed. And yet his azure vest was flanked to either side and the askew top half of his dress shirt was open, revealing the apex of his chest. Lucy cocked an eyebrow as she narrowed in on an odd round blemish at the very base of his neck. She gently swiped at the soft pink hue wiping some away with her finger. Jake stirred with the sudden action, forcing his heavy lids to open.

Lucy's confused expression came into view as he watched her starring determinately at some substance on her fingers. Sorely, Jake stretched righting himself in the chair. He felt the bones in his neck grind and pop against each other as he rolled his head along his shoulders. Absently, he rubbed the sleep out from the inner corner of his eye as he nudged Lucy's little body up onto his lap. Yawning he took her smudged fingers in his hand and attempted to focus his yet waking sight on the blush colored pigment.

"What'da yah got on your hands?" he yawned once again before planting a kiss on her temple.

She wiped at his chest again and showed him her hand, "From you Papa."

It didn't take long for the faint scent of roses to rise up into his nose, bringing the memory of his startling dream, up to float onto the surface of his mind. Frantically, Jake took her rouged fingers between his hands and rubbed the offensive cosmetic from her skin. He felt a boiling fire of anger welling deep within his stomach, stoking his fowl temper from its long hibernation. It licked like the tendrils of flames demanding an outlet for the trespassing that was done to him…to his family. Then he felt Lucy's small body shifting into a comfortable position on his lap. She pressed against his tense muscles, leaning her head onto his shoulder with a sigh. Slowly, he softened himself leaning them both back into the rocker. As Jake rocked them back and forth, the roaring blaze within him ebbed, settling back down into the confines of his body. He pressed his lips to her head feeling the silky ribbons of curls on his lips.

"Papa?"

"Hmmm?" he was struggling hard to rest his racing thoughts, to regain the moment of just holding his daughter in his arms.

"Can we stay home today?" her finger absently traced the lines of his open palm.

Jake remained quiet a moment organizing his thoughts. He supposed Mr. Dickenson could wait and get his scheduled shave tomorrow afternoon. Besides, after this morning's discovery, he didn't think he could stomach the sight of Ms. Marrow. What could he say in defense of himself? He had no proof that she had been in his home. The entire situation was absurdly surreal, even to his own understanding. "Sure, why not."

They lingered for the moment knowing comfort in one another's company, both longing for the maternal presence which was eluding them thus far. It wasn't until the sleepy fussing of Izzy's voice, perked up Jake's ears, and set him to stirring. With another gentle kiss to the temple Jake set Lucy on her feet and ushered her to her bedroom to dress. Lightly, he entered Izzy's yet shaded nursery, peeping passed the gossamer vale that encircled the crib. She had turned her head murmuring in her sleep until her thumb found its way to her bowed lips. Finding that she continued to slumber deeply, Jake returned the rocker to its position by the nursery's window.

Tiptoeing, from the room Jake hurried down the stairs feeling slightly lighter, knowing he wouldn't have to deal with the lunacy of that woman for this day at least. Teresa would be home by tomorrow afternoon, and he was resolved to close the shop up for that day as well. As he neared the first landing, Jake set his mind at ease humming softly to the sea sawing violin which vibrated forth from his memory of the Sweethearts dance. Thoughts racing with other things, sweeter things, Jake ran the back of his fingers along the growing scruff on his chin. He knew he needed a shave badly, but he'd put it off until he'd gotten breakfast for Lucy and Izzy. Then as the heels of his boots reached the floor of the front parlor, Jake froze. His eyes scanned the parlor feeling a fowl sensation as they rested on the front door.

If not for the brightly lit morning, Jake might not have noticed it for hours, until they had ventured out. The foyer was shrouded under the shade of the drawn, silvery blue brocade curtains. A gold silver of morning light outlined the ajar door, casting a line of golden light across the dark entrance hall. Jake exhaled tensing his shoulders as he approached the compromised door. There was no longer any doubt in his mind that she had been in the house last night. His stomach curdled as his temper wrestled with his fear. That woman had to go and if Loren didn't fire her, he'd run her out on the next train himself.

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Hank stared fixedly at the round white face of the banks clock. A quarter passed noon and still no sight nor sound of Jake and his brood. One disappointed customer after another stamped up the wooden steps only to find the thick Closed slab swung out. It wasn't until Jake's huffy regular Mr. Dickenson rattled the locked doors impatiently, that Hank began to worry. Determined, he tucked a wavy strand of his lion's mane behind his ear, before he ventured down the street to the mercantile.

The store was bustling with ladies picking out bolts of fabric from the wide bin behind Celina's sewing table. Her back was to him as he entered, never taking his eyes off her slender form. Celina's crimson hair was braided up around her head like a crown as thin wisps fell loose about her pale face. She wiped impatiently at these fleeing tendrils while she took the measurements of her latest customer. Hank frowned at the demand she appeared to be in. Loren wouldn't give her up easily now that she was turning him a profit, and Hank didn't relish informing on her without Jake by his side.

"Loren! Don't you dare order that silk!" Dorothy's voice shattered Hank's thoughts. "Why no one around here's gonna be able to afford even a yard of it!"

Hank swiveled his head in their direction slightly amused at the alarmed look on Dorothy's face. Yet, Loren waved her off continuing to scribble down his order number. His eyes gleamed with the prospect of doubling his clientele. Dreamily Loren's eyes mooned in the direction of his seamstress, who was seemingly spinning him hay into gold. Or fabric for that matter.

"Loren Bray! You're makin a huge mistake!" she railed into him once more. "Not even Michaela would buy anything so extravagant!"

"Ahhh Dorothy! Look at them swarmin around her. They'll buy anything just tah out do each other," he rubbed his hands together. "Sides…Teresa will be coming back and Jake'll be in here happy as a clam wantin tah buy up the finest thing he can afford for her."

"What is Teresa going to do with sapphire silk?" Dorothy looked to Cloud Dancing for support. His eyes nearly bugged, before he opted to gracefully back away from the explosive argument, which undoubtedly was coming around the bin.

"Why that's what Celina's here for!" he gestured at the girl as she busily moved on to the next smiling customer. "I'll even take a percentage off of a fittin on account of…well…her loosing her aunt and all."

"Ha!" Hank guffawed unable to sustain his disbelief. "I'd sell tickets tah see that exchange take place."

Dorothy lowered her gaze uncomfortably, knowing exactly what Hank's despicable line of thought was. She had been standing across the street with Grace at the livery, when Hank had tossed Celina out on the walk of the barbershop. The brazen woman had come directly to Robert E requesting a horse. Together they had watched awestruck as she had ridden out in the direction of Jake's home. Grace had admonished angrily with a wave of her hand, "I'll be the first one behind Ms. Teresa tah cut a switch fah that wicked woman!"

"Hank," Dorothy's voice stretched calmly with warning.

But Hank pressed on leaning over the glass counter to whisper close to Loren's side. "Yah know Loren, you could stand to _**Lose**__ business, if say…your golden goose was messin with another hen's rooster."_

The trio stood silent each sorting through Hank's jumbled metaphor, until Loren's expression erupted with his usual overreaction. "What're you sayin?"

"I'm sayin," Hank levered his hand in front of Loren's face, motioning for him to keep it down. "When that train pulls in someone had better be pullin out." He struck his thumb in Celina's direction.

Loren's face doubled in shock as he stared with disgust at the other side of the store. He was visibly torn while he decoded the little oddities which had been occurring. The first of which being Celina's inquiries as to the beauty products Mrs. Slicker favored. That coupled with her sudden desire for the rose oil, he kept in stock just for Teresa. Hank, Loren and Dorothy quickly formed a knit circle, whispering confidentially to one another. They were so engrossed that neither noticed when Cloud Dancing, silently side stepped them all and began the long walk down to Jake's home. As he went along Cloud Dancing shook his head with worry. _'The man is now in danger of losing everything. He may soon find himself alone.'_


	13. Chapter 13

The warmth of the late summer afternoon magnified the floral scents that danced around them. Sweet as sunshine, Teresa's honeysuckle beds bloomed wildly unattended with the spicy aromas of rosemary thickets, and musky wood blends rising from mugwort and hawthorn bushes. Yellow freesias turned there scalloped trumpets towards the brilliantly blue sky, drinking in every ounce of golden splendor. Springing up haphazardly along the base of the white terrace, pastel blue, pink and purple love-in-a-mist stars, hovered proudly in their bold chartreuse nettle patches. It was as though the entire estate had lifted its vibrant flora adorned head to search about for Teresa's nurturing hand.

This was a part of her world that Jake could never touch, for fear of unintentionally destroying it. He could only admire its lush beauty from a distance, as he watched her painstakingly clipping and plucking away, the dried brown husks of perished petals and leaves. She could stay out there for hours, shaded by the wide brim of her straw sun hat, her gloved hands digging expertly into the rich damp soil. Removing wing leafed weeds and setting them aside as Cloud Dancing had requested, that he might harvest some for medicine salves. It was a beauty he filled his sketchpad with, hoping to capture these memories and make them tangible, on paper at least.

Jake's wandering thoughts drowned down under the pool of Lucy's voice.

"Come on Izzy you can do it!" she stood a few feet away in the circlet of open grass, on the side of the house. Here the leaf burdened branches of the oaks, stretched like a partial canopy, reaching their spindly fingers for the roof of the house. Lucy stretched her arms out to Izzy beckoning her to join her.

Jake stooped low over his tiny daughter as her little hands held on to his fingertips. Izzy's chubby legs dragged her dainty feet forward, awkwardly attempting to mimic the art of walking. She chortled happily pushing towards her big sister's laughing form. Jake fought his melancholy thoughts, that Teresa wasn't there to witness Izzy, make her first attempts at walking. However, one jumbled misstep gently folded her pliable ankle bringing her down on her bottom in the thick grass.

"Oh honey!" Jake pulled her up to her feet again, dusting off her bottom. Instinctually, he wanted to inspect her for injury, but Izzy reached out her hand to Lucy completely undaunted.

"Don't give up Izzy!" Lucy persisted as well.

Jake chuckled hardily at the perseverance of his girls. He felt his heart swell with pride as Izzy clasped her hands to his fingers once more. Stepping with her, Jake's lowered voice-vibrated encouragements, "That's right honey. One foot…keep going sweetheart."

The closer they got to Lucy the faster she hobbled along excitedly crying out, until Lucy was directly before her. Instantly, Izzy released Jake falling into Lucy's waiting arms. "You did it!" Lucy hoisted her growing baby sister into her arms. "Papa Izzy walked!"

Jake came down on his haunches smirking delightedly, as Lucy fell into the soft grass with Izzy in her lap. Watching them together, Jake couldn't quite believe they were his. But then he saw the silvery blue glow of his eyes piercing through the thick veil of jet lashes as Lucy smiled proudly at her sister. He saw how her smile curled to one side, much like his own, revealing the smallest hint of her front teeth. They were truly something to behold, he thought observing the fiery crimson contrast of Izzy's wavy mop to Lucy's glossy midnight ringlets. Izzy had pushed herself forward on her hands and knees, crawling back up to him. She pulled herself up by his inner thigh resting her head on his chest.

"Time for ah nap," Jake sighed lifting her up into his arms as he rose. Lucy followed close behind him as they rounded the corner of the house and climbed the steps of the terrace. Jake nearly had his hand to the door when he saw Cloud Dancing's approaching form in the reflection of the glass.

"Grandpaw!" Jake turned in time to see Lucy bound down the steps up to the only grandfather she'd ever known. "Grandpaw, Izzy walked! You missed it!"

"Truly?" he looked quizzically up at Jake as he hugged Lucy to his side.

"Well, balancin' on mah fingers," Jake admitted stepping up to the top of the steps to meet him.

"Soon she will be running, and you will long for these days," Cloud Dancing smiled smoothing the hair on Izzy's drowsy head.

"Rub it in, why don't yah," Jake mused dryly. "Gotta put Izzy down for 'er nap."

Cloud Dancing nodded, "Then we must talk of unpleasant things."

This caused Jake to hesitate as he observed the concerned expression dragging down Cloud Dancing's usually mellow demeanor.

"I can do it," Lucy stepped up taking Izzy's heavy body into her small arms. Jake smiled opening the door for her.

"Just watch her on the sofa," he gently closed the door after her. Turning to face the man he now considered family, he crossed his arms over his chest. "Look, if this is about Celina, I'm way aheada yah… I mean I can't prove it… but I think she was in the house last night."

"Everyone is worried for you and Teresa," Cloud Dancing took his usual seat on the top step. "My concern lies with the young ones."

Plopping himself down by Cloud Dancing, Jake raked his fingers through his hair with an exasperated exhale. "Tomorrow morning, Teresa will be home… It'll be safe tah talk with Loren then."

"Dorothy and Hank have already spoken on your be hath," he pursed his lips in thought. "I fear this woman has gained footing in the store. She will not be uprooted easily."

Resting his forearms on his knees, Jake ran his thumb reflectively up and down the edge of his jaw and chin. "What about Dr. Mike? What does she think?"

"She and Sully are awaiting Teresa's return…She has been wronged as well," Cloud Dancing tilted his head in Jake's direction. His warm earth toned eyes read the fine display of emotions Jake was attempting to hide. "You did not think to have righted the situation before she arrived?"

Waving his hands anxiously before him, Jake fumed, "Look, I didn't even know the woman was after me! I never thought… I don't know what I thought." A thunderstorm was erupting in his eyes as he met Cloud Dancing's understanding gaze. "I love Teresa…I would never do anything tah hurt her. All I want is for things tah go back tah normal."

"What is normal? Life is like a touch of nature," his bronzed hand padded Jake's shoulder with reassurance. "Full of mystery and surprise. Good and bad. You are part of a tribe now. And they will weather these changes with you and for you. Do not think to leave your other half from harm by keeping secrets from her now."

He knew Cloud Dancing was right. Jake would have to explain the entire ridiculous truth and have faith that she could trust him. She knew the kind of man he was and had witnessed first hand how far he could fall. Yet, his conscience fought him, arguing how far he had come. It would be ludicrous to allow the whims of some maleficent woman, to destroy the home he and Teresa built with love, and compassion. In the end, Cloud Dancing's golden words of spun wisdom won out. Jake padded Cloud Dancing's hand, before nodding to him in agreement.

Cloud Dancing rose, feeling he had accomplished what he had set out to do. "Embrace the little ones for me."

"You're not stayin' over?" he had secretly hoped for some company to wait out the long night.

"Dorothy as planned a special dinner for us," Cloud Dancing pressed his lips into a mischievous smile. "I have been warned not to be late."

Forcing himself to smile in turn, Jake nodded in farewell. However, a strange far off glance took hold of Cloud Dancing's countenance. He seemed to be peering off into nothingness as he wavered at the bottom of the steps. "Do not lock your door this night."

Jake's mouth dropped with a start, "But- that woman."

"You would do well to listen to me, my friend," the knowing Indian grinned to himself as he began to walk away.

"Wait ah minute!" Jake rose bewildered as he shouted after him. "Did yah have another dream?"

Jake waited for an answer, receiving only a backwards wave as the cryptic man disappeared down the dirt path, and into the trees.

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The warm night breeze mussed her loose satin tresses, causing the wild strands to fall into her face. Impatiently, she swept her slender hand across her brow attempting to brush them back. She inhaled breathing in the sweet delicate scents of jasmine and honeysuckle. Her feet moved silently up the white steps bringing her to the vacant terrace. The plant baskets swung eerily to and fro overhead casting their dark vibrant colors against the waning moonlight. Without thinking about what would surely be a locked door, her hand struck out impulsively and pull the unfastened door open.

She would have speculated on the oddity, if not for the lunar-lit foyer, which pulled her attention down to the occupied winged sofa in the front parlor. Swishing about her feet her skirts would not allow her the stealth she desperately wanted. As she near Jake's sleeping body, she took a moment to take in his length. Once again, he had fallen asleep fully dressed with his boots on. His chestnut vest fell fully open and rumpled under his heavy arms. The ivory linen of his shirt was creased as it lay untucked and open revealing the pale bare skin of his chest and stomach. Rhythmically, his chest rose and fell beneath the smooth trunk of his chiseled neck. As delicately as she could her hands reached out, pulling the two ends of his shirt back together, to cover his stomach.

His face was peaceful at first serene and handsome in her gazing eyes. Then as she shifted down on her knees at his side, his brows furrowed with despair. Jake's face contorted in reaction to some fowl dream plaguing his sleeping demeanor, filling her with alarm. She rose afraid to wake him when his hand flung out seemingly of its own accord and grabbed hold of her wrist. His hand tightened like a vise forcing a whimper to bleed from between her blushing lips.

It was her gasp that shattered his nightmare, and the tangible form of flesh and bone held within his grasp, that ripped open his eyes. The hues of ash and blue sky burned wildly up into her face animated as if in a waking nightmare. In a flash, Jake released her wrist and cuffed her shoulders roughly pulling her up to his irate face.

"Why!" he demanded, his voice boomed striking her heart with paralyzing fear. Her words caught in her throat, too terrified to rush to her rescue. "Why!" He shook her violently in his iron grip until the world crashed down around them.


	14. Chapter 14

He must be mad, Jake thought as he watched the dying embers fade into the shadows of soot, in the fireplace. The parlor was misted with the dissipating scent of burnt oak logs and charcoal smoke which floated like a mass sheet up the flue of the chimney. Although, he had done as Cloud Dancing bid, leaving the door unlocked it nagged at him. After the girls had drifted off, Jake went about his new nightly routine, dragging the rocker out of the nursery and setting it up between Lucy and Izzy's doors. However, as he stared down at the curved empty seat the back of his smooth neck erupted in chilled bumps. Jake felt a pressurized sensation pulsing like a heartbeat at his back calling his attention to the compromised door. Briefly, his instincts grappled with his trust in Cloud Dancing's request.

The heat was getting to him, he thought wiping a fallen bead of sweat from his temple. Yet as if calling his body's ability to sense temperature into question, an icy chill darted up his spine, forcing him into action. As Jake jumbled down the stairs, he hastily unbuttoned his dress shirt hoping to rid himself of any amount of stifling pressure. Passing the darkened foyer, he didn't dare cast even a glance in the direction of the closed door. For in his mind the unlocked door was as good as missing the entire front wall of the house. Crashing down into the crook of the winged sofa, he'd stretched his long legs down its length, and proceeded to watch the fire die out. But every mammalian trill and nocturnal hum had him darting up to search the windows for intruders. This exercise in tension fatigued his body to the point of drifting off in the plush comforts of the warm sofa.

Though his body rested, his mind cycled with the oncoming threat. What had she done to him that night as he slept? Worst of all, had he not wakened easily, what could she have done to the girls? Jake couldn't cease conjuring up instances in which Celina entered the house, and riled on top of him. His body paralyzed beneath her as Teresa entered discovering the lie. What could he do? What could he say in defense that wouldn't sound absolutely far fetched? Once again, his mind cycled. Were Lucy to come down stairs looking for him, she might be in danger. What might that hellish woman do then? Anger mounted within Jake, giving rise to his now unchecked temper. Nothing could quench the flames of his temperament should that Morrow woman lay a finger on his child.

Then he felt it, so faint at first he wasn't sure if it was part of his dream or his body's wakeful state. The fabric of his shirt sliding over his bare skin like the lightest of breezes jarred him. She was here in the house! He felt her rise at his side, trying to get away, but every fiber in him screamed not to allow her escape. Like a bullet his arm catapulted out snatching at anything tangible. His hand clamped around her fragile wrist eliciting an audibly pain filled whimper. Although his eyes tore open almost immediately, it took a moment for her vile form to register with his half-wakeful state.

There she was her pallid complexion glimmering under her sinfully scarlet locks which spilled down like a satin curtain about her shoulders. Like the scales of a snake, her viridian eyes blared maleficent with daring as her lips curled into a salacious smile. Jake released her wrist catching her around her shoulders, only succeeding in making her laugh sardonically in his face. The sound of her voice seeped into his head, creeping down into the caverns of his belly. There his now unchecked temper uncoiled and burst into the flames of his raging anger. He shook her hard wanting to know why she'd decided to destroy his life. His world…His world that had taken him so long to create and deserve, was crumbling at her mere whims.

"Why!" he could hear himself yelling through her maniacal laughter. "Why!"

Jake could feel his nails digging into the soft flesh at the backs of her arms, as he continued to rack her back and forth, with such force her head tossed like a rag doll. All the while, her unrelenting laughter taunted him, provoking him further into his threatening wrath. Suddenly, as he was about to fall over the edge of oblivion and cut her down, somewhere in the emptiness of the room, a meek voice sounded.

"Jake!" Celina's arms squeezed up between his own and took hold of his neck. Only, rather than scratching at his skin or attempting to choke his throat, her hands weakly framed his contorted face. "Jake…my Heart…wake up."

This threw him off his guard, as he ceased in his torturous shaking of her suddenly limp body. Exhausted she hung her head off to the side slightly, her face covered by the now chaotic darkness of her hair. Jake blinked releasing her aching shoulders from his vise like grip, "What'd yah call me?"

Her breathing labored, she slowly turned to face him as wave after wave of midnight silk fell away from her wounded expression. "Jake," her familiar accent pierced through his heart like ice. "What has happened?"

As his hands swept up, she flinched from his touch, before trusting in his soft caress. He gently brushed her disheveled tresses from her face, tucking some glossy strands behind her ears. "Teresa?…You've come back tah me?"

Jake's entire face fell, as he realized in his dreaming state, he'd mistaken Teresa for Celina. In a panic, Jake attempted to survey the damage he'd done, feeling like a beast. It had been years since he'd known this monstrous feeling. Now that his self-loathing had snaked back around him, Jake couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. His sweet wife had come home and he had nearly murdered her with his own hands.

"Of course. I said I would," she smiled through the pain.

Teresa enveloped Jake's trembling yet searching hands between hers. Gently she soothed his skin rubbing the clammy chill away. Her hands worked their way up his arms and finally to his own shoulders, before she sat up close to him within the sphere of his upper body. With the tips of her fingers, she nudged his chin towards her, forcing him to look her in the eyes. This was not the face of the man she'd left at the train station. His hair was slightly longer and it was evident he hadn't bothered to run a comb through it. Jake's usually smooth face, was shaded with a dark auburn bristle that was bordering between stubble, and the growth of a three-day beard. Even under the dying light of the oil lamps Teresa could see the dark circles under his ruddy lined eyes.

"Look at me Jake," she pleaded firmly brushing her fingers along his scratchy cheek. "Whatever has happened…let us deal with it in the morning." Still sensing his reluctance and shame, she continued, "Jake I am home now. I am home now."

"I…I'm sorry," his voice was low and still affectively shocked.

As if knowing exactly what he needed she slipped into his arms, molding herself to his body. Hesitantly Jake embraced her, feeling Teresa settling into him, he felt his apprehension melting away. She was real, safe, and warm in his arms. Burying his face in her onyx waves, he inhaled her scent. Roses, his long awaited roses, and something else. The closer to her back he got the stronger the foreign scent was. He'd smelled something like that before, at the mercantile. Sandalwood. Yes, Eau de Cologne. But this was a man's scent, not a woman's perfume. Certainly not hers.

"Teresa?" He began before the front door slammed open and a cougar like man stormed in with his arms set at his sides.

"Ms. Teresa! I was halfway down the path when I heard shouting!"

Jake shot up towering with his full height close to the man who stood his equal. Blue storms met crystalline blue waters, as Jake and Randall came eye to eye. Nostrils flaring, Jake wrestled with the fact that this man had been close enough to his wife to leave his scent on her. Just as Jake was about to strike forward, Teresa drew herself up between them, though remaining closer to her husband.

"Everything is ok," she said maintaining a calm tone in her voice. "Jake was having a nightmare, that is all…Jake this is Randall McCoy. When the train was delayed, he offered to bring me home safely. It is because of his kindness that I am here."

Jake shifted his stance, uncertain now as he observed this feline of a man. Aversely, he offered his hand, "Jake Slicker, I'm her husband."

Randall took Jake's hand playing off Teresa's reassuring face, "You have a very lovely wife." Randall's lips curved into a teasing crescent. Their hands held in a continuously tightening grip until Teresa cleared her throat and Jake gave in. Randall rubbed the back of his neck looking at Teresa from under his brow. "Like I said…I was just about to ride back into town when I heard yelling."

Teresa smiled nodding, "I assure you, it was nothing more than a nightmare."

Jake's eyes widened as he looked from Teresa's face then back to Randall's. So much had occurred within the time he had committed his unintentional act on Teresa, and what he was fighting to assume, was only the fear of a companion on Randall's part. Feeling as though he were in a haze, Jake teetered on his feet, struggling to keep up with this sudden flash of events. His body felt fatigued and anxious all at the same time, as he narrowed his vision on Randall's now curious expression.

"Mr. Slicker?" he asked uncertainly advancing on Jake with his arms stretched forward preparing to catch him.

His vision beginning to fizz and spot, Jake's skin tingled over the numbness he felt in his muscles. Again, he attempted to focus on the man in front of him only to be felled by a wave anxiety. His body seemed to detach from his senses, almost as though he where in a dream. It was then that Jake fell roughly into Randall's swooping arms, bringing the two men down to their knees. Teresa rushed to Jake's side helping Randall to pull him up to the sofa. As soon as Jake was settled, Teresa turned frantically to Randall, her eyes full of fear.

"Please, if you follow the dirt path past the creek there will be a homestead. That is where Dr. Quinn lives. Please," she begged him.

Randall only nodded as he bound out the door to his waiting horse.


	15. Chapter 15

*****I'm so sorry this was so late. I had severe writer's you know what! The kind that had me scouring the ol' YT for some Slicker inspiration. When that didn't work I searched under JK and got the most jaw dropping scare of my life. It's seared into my brain like a brand, and every time I watch the show it pops back up into my subconscious like a guilty nightmare. Let this be a lesson to those that watch before you read the description. Hee hee!*** **

This sensation was familiar as Jake teetered on the brink of consciousness and wake. There was an odd numbness detaching him from his body and yet he continued to feel weighted down by its tether. Little by little as his aching body began to rein him back down into the physical world, Jake's head throbbed with a painful pulse. It cracked along the front of his forehead practically splitting his skullcap in half; or so, it felt. The racking pain jarred him down to his aching molars making every little movement agony. Yes, this felt like old times. Times when solace was found at the clear glass, amber dribbled bottom of a whiskey bottle. However as his tongue pushed up against the roof of his mouth sticking dryly about his teeth he knew he had kept true. There was no bitter tang or dwelling nausea anchoring him on his back. His lids twitched under the pressure of her practiced finger as she gently shoved his eyelid up. For a brief moment Jake's swimming eye captured her shape as a mere blur against the brightness of the room.

Jake's mind wandered back into the darkness of his memory, jolting something up from his breaking heart to the forefront of consciousness. Had it been a dream or had Teresa actually come home to him? The excitement of this prospect roused him, causing his eyes to flutter fitfully open. Slowly, her blurred form became much more refined, revealing a different sort of lovely creature. A creature on the verge of lecture.

"How are you feeling Jake?" Michaela's voice though laced with concern was also cautious. She reached her slender hand off to the side receiving a rung out linen in return. He waited until she plastered the cool fabric along his aching forehead.

"I-I wasn't drunk," he murmured clumsily.

Michaela jerked her head up with a start, her finely shaped eyebrow arching with incredulity. Her gaze wandered off to the side seeming to meet with another's mirrored expression. "Jake no one thought that."

Still feeling slightly disoriented, Jake reached up shakily pressing the moist linen against the shattering throbbing of his head. "What happened?"

Michaela sighed allowing her mouth to curve gently up to one side. "Well, more likely this is a case of exhaustion. Clearly, you haven't been sleeping and judging by the sallow coloring in your skin, I'd say you haven't been eating either." Once again, she cast her gaze just beyond Jake's view. "I should have come out to check on them…I'm sorry. I just didn't think it was my place…"

"You could not have known," her voice was like velvet, caressing his ear.

At the mere sound, Jake immediately set himself to trying to rise only to be met with two sturdy hands on his shoulders weighing him back down. He watched as both Michaela and Teresa exchanged seats, all the while a man's strong hands offered Jake support.

"Jake, please, you must calm yourself," Teresa laid her hand gently on his ribcage, settling him slightly.

"I'm sorry I hurt yah," he took hold of her hand cupping it close to his heart. "I thought you were her."

Teresa tilted her head in confusion, "Who?"

"Uh, Jake," Michaela broke in before he could answer. Unsure how to continue however, she nodded to Jake that she would corroborate his side of the story.

Jake took a breath as he held firmly to her hand. His eyes fixed themselves to her mahogany gems which watched his face, filled with love and unmitigated trust. There was nothing he could hide from her. Teresa knew his soul, his mind, and his heart. Together they had thrown off the shackles of their horrid pasts, and created beauty in their daughters. Jake had never known unconditional love until he met her, had never known the kind of happiness that came from being a whole man. Now as he looked up into his wife's kind and caring face, he began from the beginning.

As the words slipped from his lips, his gaze never wavered, locking her line of sight with his. When he was finished, she leaned back though her hand remained pressed into his chest. Teresa swallowed breaking from his face and turning to face Michaela. Michaela straightened with her hands resting in her lap, fully prepared to vouch for Jake. But Teresa smiled and softly shook her head. "That won't be necessary, Dr. Quinn," she turned back to Jake's confounded expression. "If it would have been so easy for you to stray from me, I would not have married you."

Michaela and Jake collectively relaxed, as Randall came around and slouched against the mantle of the fireplace. "This Celina," he began picking at his thumbnail, "She a pretty gal?"

Jake sat up pulling Teresa closer to him as Michaela sighed in response, "Yes, I'm afraid I must admit she is rather attractive. But I don't see what that has to do with anything. If what Jake has witnessed was indeed Celina in the house, she could be rather dangerous."

"Are you sayin it ain't safe for the girls tah be here?" Jake raised his brows, as Teresa replenished the linen cloth from Jake's forehead and gently pressed it against the back of his neck.

However, Randall intercepted with his ever-probing thoughts, "How did she gain your trust, if you weren't interested in her?"

Jake huffed wishing he were at full strength, "She…she picked up Izzy."

Teresa and Michaela exchanged awestruck glances, as Randall interjected again, "What does that mean; she picked up your kid?"

"Mr. McCoy," Michaela began still unaccustomed to the idea of this askew man. There was a hard slightly boyish air about him, yet one could definitely sense the danger of falling under his wrath. His appearance at their door this night had certainly set Sully on edge until he'd mentioned Teresa's plea for help. "Izzy can be rather… sensitive with strangers."

"More like the temperament of a banshee," Jake muttered under his breath before smiling warmly at his spark of an offspring.

"Then how'd she manage to pick her up?" Randall's voice remained even and tranquil.

"The rose oil," Jake took hold of Teresa's free hand and kissed her open palm. "She was makin' herself smell like Teresa."

Teresa inhaled pressing her lips into a subdued pout. Her calm was commencing to crack, at the thought of her child being tampered with. Had this woman attempted to usurp her? Her mind traveled back to the sight of her sleeping babies, warm and safe in their beds. After Randall had sped off and Jake seemed to lie thickly under his unconscious vale, she'd crept up to their rooms. It was agony to see them just within her reach, but she didn't dare go to them yet. She must return to Jake, should he wake once more. "How did she know what I…" she raised her brow awkwardly, feeling her face flush. "What I…smelled like?"

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Running her fingers along the softly knitted wool of Izzy's blanket, she nuzzled her finger up under her round chin. The child slept deep and serene, with her arms bent up to the sides of her vermilion petals of hair. The moonlight cast brightly across her face making Izzy's snowy complexion appear to glisten. Her long thick lashes crisscrossed with light strands of honey and the darkest mahogany and mocha.

A rustle of footsteps sounded from the parlor below, causing Izzy to stir stretching her small arms out into the darkness before her, then resting back down by her face. Celina sighed bending over the cradle, gently soothing Izzy's tiny chest. It had been a close call earlier, when the mother had returned and nearly discovered her laying Izzy back down into her cradle. Striking like an adder, Celina slithered up along the midnight shadows of the wall behind the door.

The woman did seem to be something of a sight, she'd thought observing the way her long onyx tresses formed fat lazy curls which bounced just below her cinched waist. Her oval face and round features were exquisite and as she bowed her head to watch her sleeping baby, Celina could see her long thick lashes. They fringed her round russet eyes that gave her face a very gentle yet fiery aura. Celina's emerald eyes fired with jealousy, from her place, cloaked within her alcove of shadows, as she had watched Teresa leave.

Now as Celina watched over Izzy she whispered softly, "I'm still here my darling. Don't you worry. Soon it will be just you, me, and your father." Like a spider creeping down from it's web, she bent over the cradle and lightly brushed her lips against the babes forehead. "Just us three."


	16. Chapter 16

*****Just another warning about the first section of this chapter. It gets a little steamy. And who could blame them! Hope you enjoy! *** **

Jake slid down between the crisp cool sheets of their bed. His pillow cradled his aching head, lulling and soothing the kinks from his neck. Slowly, his body relaxed molding to the contours of the mattress setting him somewhat at ease. The sheets felt deliciously crisp against his bare skin, causing him to stretch with a lazy yawn. It hadn't been long since Michaela and Randall had left, and Teresa with her arm wrapped around his waist, had brought him upstairs. He couldn't take his eyes off her for fear she may dissolve like the wisps of dreams. Without a word, she'd knelt down at his feet and began untying his laces, pulling his boots off of his tired feet. Placing them under the foot of the bed, Teresa tilted her face up to smile at him. One arched brow rose seductively, as she slid up between his legs and wrapped her arms around his waist once more. Her head rested on his chest, as she listened to the rapid beating of his heart. Jake's hands trembled as they wound his long fingers in her hair, then down along her jaw. He gently nudged her chin up as he bent down pressing his full lips against hers. How he'd missed this, her scent, her taste, the feel of petal like lips against his skin.

But she pulled away rising to her feet, with her hand brushing longingly down and away from his cheek. Nibbling lightly on her bottom lip, she began to leave the room only to find that she was tethered in Jake's firm hold. "Where yah goin?" his heart was about to burst.

Teresa laughed pulling herself from his grasp, "I am just going to look in on them one more time." She held her finger up in the air. "I will be back in a minute, my heart." She'd whispered the last word as she disappeared into the hallway.

With a gruff exhale, Jake tended to himself stripping down to his short drawers, and forcing himself to settle in the middle of the bed. Yet, his eyes drooped down his length watching the open door until she strolled back in wringing her hands. Sliding up on his elbows, he frowned, waiting while she gathered her hair over one shoulder.

"What is it?" he asked as her fingers blindly worked at unfastening the back of her black mourning dress.

As the top front of the dress fell loosely about her shoulders, she smiled peering at the sight of him. "I just…I want so to hold them." Finally, free of the dresses constraints she gently draped the detestable garment over the stool in front of her vanity. It was such a simple action and yet Jake found so much comfort in it. It was familiar. It was routine. He was mesmerized by her every movement as she commenced to change from her restricting undergarments and into his favorite nightgown. It was made of the thinnest ivory muslin which draped over her every curve, outlining her body to advantage. The lack of sleeves was two-inch lace straps that scalloped over her shoulders, sliding loosely down her arm every time she moved.

"Well," his voice cracked roughly. Jake cleared his throat pushing the sheets down on her side for her. "You can come hold me."

"Jake," Teresa scolded him playfully as she settled down next to him. Propping herself up on her side, the lace strap slipped down her arm, stealing all of Jake's attention. His fingers tucked up under the delicate lace and ran along the soft skin of her shoulder and across the front of her chest. He delighted so in the contrasting tones of his white hands on her tinted au lait skin that his fingers lingered along the slender curve of her neck. Teresa's head fell back splaying her thick satin strands of hair beneath her. Nudging her onto her back Jake gently moved to hover over her.

How she had missed this. She breathed in his intoxicating scent of leather, shaving tonic and his light gentlemen's musk. Licking her lips, she brushed them along the swell of his Adam's apple, eliciting a guttural groan that tightened every muscle in his arms. She continued to kiss a line up his neck and along his hard jaw line until his mouth engulfed her own. As the kiss deepened Teresa felt her heart fluttering wildly, every inch of her body tingled drunkenly at the weight of his body pressing into her. Instinctually, she bent one leg up tight against his flank, spurring his reaction to her in extreme vigor.

Momentarily, Jake released her from his subduing kiss, "I love you, Teresa." His hand reach down under the thin linen sheets, finding the hem of her muslin gown, and sliding the flimsy fabric up her leg and passed her thighs. His eyes darkened like two murky sapphires burning like the blue infernos of a candles flame. The corners of his mouth curled up as brazen as a ravenous wolf intent on devouring every inch of her. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he brought the gown higher forcing her breath to catch in her throat. Jake dipped his head down running his cool moist tongue up her neck, before nuzzling close to her ear. "The most wonderful woman I've ever known." His voice hummed, deeply drenched with desire. Teresa felt as though her heart was going to pound right out of her chest as Jake's hand pressed warmly between their bodies. His thumb stroked the outer rim of her bellybutton before his hand continued in its journey. "You're all I could ever want or need, yah know that?"

He could feel the strain beginning to break within him, as he took his place before her. She felt him then, breaking passed her barrier and shattering her soul. "Jake," she gasped close to his ear. "You are my heart."

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Dawn broke crisp and bright over the sleeping town of Colorado Springs. The air was scented with the musky aroma of dew, which only helped to set off the wafting vaporous scents of the eucalyptus trees, bordering the meadow and open fields of wilderness. Randall inhaled deeply taking in the splendor around him as he walked along the side of his midnight charger. Together they strolled, not as man and horse but two companions exhausted from their recent adventurous excursions. Randall paused as they reached the wide dirt road that separated the open field from the train station. He was beginning to regret his decision not to take Ms. Teresa or Dr. Quinn up on their offers to stay over.

With a weak smirk, he looked passed the station and down the wide main street of the town. He could just make out what he assumed were the livery stables, yet with his tired feet screaming obscenities of pain at his body, they may as well have been miles away instead of yards.

"We've come this far, Cin'," Randall spoke softly patting the horse's thick sable mane. Cin's head bobbed seemingly in an irate response. Together they trudge onward crossing the pass and nearly dragging themselves across the currently train-less tracks. Looking around him, Randall had to admit Ms. Teresa wasn't wrong about this town. It did resemble for all the world to be an untouched jewel. Randall struggled to recall the order of the shop fronts, Teresa had recited to him before he'd left to escort Dr. Quinn home safely. Reaching what he'd correctly deemed the coopering stables, he tied Cin' to the high post and waited. Leaning against the round fence rails himself, he allowed his eyes to settle on the red and white striped pole of the barbershop. His eyes shifted back to the emerald green façade beside it. Looking passed the fancy scrolled banner which meant nothing to him, Randal immediately set himself to wondering why anyone would drop such an out of place structure in the middle of this sweet town. He rested his hands on his hipbones about to investigate the structures oddity, when he heard movement behind him.

"You're up mighty early," a man's friendly yet groggy voice commented. "You come in on last night's train?"

Randall straightened coming face to face with the yawning blacksmith himself. "Yeah, yah might say," he dug into his vest pockets retrieving two dollars worth of change and offering it to the man. "That cover the board for the horse?"

The blacksmith blinked spreading the coins about in his strong meaty hand. "Yourah dollah fifty over, Mister."

He attempted to hand Randall back his change, only to be gently rebuffed. "You go ahead and keep what's left, Mr.-ah?"

"Robert E.," he was flummoxed as he observed the man before him. His eyes although hooded under his tan flaxen brow, were crested with a cheery attitude which set Robert E. at ease.

"Oh uh," he seemed to be forgetting himself in his drained haze. "Randall McCoy," he immediately offered his hand greeting the smith as though they were long lost friends. Randall walked out into the yet vacant street with Robert E. in tow. "I wonder, if you might tell me were I could find the uh…Gold Nugget?"

Robert E. straightened unsure once again, but he pointed down the street anyways, "See that sign with that big yellow lettering…says Gold Nugget."

Randall squinted with a nod, "I've been up all night long…Thank you." As he set about the arduous task of dismounting his saddlebags from Cin's rump, he heard the blacksmith exhale with a shocked sigh.

"What's that woman up tah now?" Robert E. shook his head watching as a crimson-headed woman made her way up the boarding houses porch and tip toed inside.

"Who's that?" Randall asked slinging the sienna tinted leather bag over his broad rounded shoulder.

"A woman who ain't got no business being here," Robert E. exhaled turning to take Cin's reins.

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How could he love her? Her hand formed a tight fist which she laid firm on the small cherry stained dresser. The top was lined with a delicate white lace runner that protected the finish from her brush, combs, and perfumed cosmetics. One nostril sneered at the plainness of these objects compared to Teresa's finery. The woman's vanity sparkled with the sheen of diamonds. Her brush was made of filigreed silver and the bristles where of the finest quality. Celina's scratched and worn wooden combs and brush smiled up at her with missing tines and empty bristle holes. Her fist tightened gauging the sharp little crescents of her nails into the skin of her palm. With her, other hand Celina pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling every ounce of tension piercing her head like a spike.

"She's with you now…" she spoke to her reflection in the dull mirror. "Soon you'll see how beneath you that…that…Mexican is."

Celina sneer once more unable to comprehend the attraction. She ran her fingers along her alabaster skin stretching obscenely as she scrutinized her face. Her finely arched brows were groomed into a dark tawny shade of auburn which framed her almond eyes. They were fringed in matching lashes that enhanced the murky emerald color of her eyes. Releasing her cheek, Celina ran her ring finger along the thin bow of her pink bottom lip. What was there, that he couldn't see?

"Just like Harris. You're just like Harris," one brow rose with a curl of pain in its expression for that memory. "He wasn't strong enough to shuck his wife either…but Izzy. Yes." Her face softened then revealing a serene reflection. "Yes…just like my own child. That's what they'll say when they see us about. How much she looks like me. Jake you won't deny me that. Our child…that's what she'll be."

Her fist felt numb and yet cool at the same time. Absently, she watched as a tiny trickle of blood ran down the slope of her wrist and puddled on the white lace runner. The cotton threads soaked up the ruby liquid, browning with each passing second. Celina remained thus, watching the matte bloom growing and seeping down into the cherry wood finish of the dresser.

"You won't be like Harris, my love. You'll be stronger."


	17. Chapter 17

His entire body yawned in the deepest relaxation Jake had ever felt. Rolling closer to her side, he took in her beauty. The moon cast a gossamer sheath of blue light through the open window, changing the hue of her skin to a soft creamy tint. She was asleep on her stomach with her arm thrust up under her pillow. With her heavenly face turned towards his, Teresa was completely serene, tucked beneath the silvery webs of dreams. Gently, so as not to wake her Jake tucked back the short soft tendrils, that fell to frame her face. It had felt like an eternity without her and now here she was sleeping like a dove, by his side. Watching her now, breathing in the sweet ethereal scent of roses, he felt he loved her so much that it actually hurt his heart.

Her sleek raven tresses, alighted with the starry blue undertones of a night sky, were swept up across her pillow laying her back bare. Jake watched spell bound at the rise and fall of her sloping back before he reached out and gingerly tugged her nightgown back up over her shoulder blades. Jake cast his eyes up to the murky moonlit sky. Thank the God up in heaven, thank whatever Cloud Dancing's spirit friends were, thank whatever magic there was in the universe around them, that this beautiful creature loved him back. Nudging himself closer to her body, Jake wrapped his arms around her, feeling her mold into him. Her face tucked up comfortably under his throat with a sigh as she sleepily entwined her legs with his. Now that he could hold on to her tangible form, his lids fell heavily. Pressing his lips to her forehead, he squeezed her gently to him once more before drifting off into the clouded waves of sleep.

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She felt a gentle pressure on her cheek, like the light flutter of a butterfly's wings. The touch continued stroking the side of her face, delicately calling her out of her slumbering state. As Lucy's thick lashes ascended from the roof of her cheek, she smiled instantly feeling a triumphant elation. Her mother smiled down at her lovely as every, holding Izzy's spying form on her lap. She was wearing her church dress, a silvery dove gray brocade frock with a white lace wrap tucked in around the square collar at her breast. The same matching silken lace poked out in wavy cuffs from the bell like opening of her sleeves. And her jet black hair was swept up and contained with a silvery chained basket at the base of her head. Already satin bluish black ribbons of hair had fallen free, framing her cheery face.

"Mama!" Lucy bolted from her bed embracing her mother about her cinched waist. Lucy nestled in the warmth of her mother's arms which held her tightly to her side. What harm could befall them now that her mother was here to care for and protect them? Lucy felt Teresa's hand reach down to cup her little face with her free hand, while Izzy sat mesmerized by the shiny darker silver of the brocade pattern.

"How I have missed my little angels," Teresa's voice was soft and near to a whisper. "Come," she released Lucy helping her from her bed so that she might wash up at the basin. "You will tell me all the wonderful things you have been up to while I was away."

While Lucy hummed about excitedly, rehashing every childish event and adventure between herself and Katie, Teresa wandered about the small room laying out Lucy's Sunday dress and undergarments. It wasn't until Lucy reached the climax of her story with the retelling of how Izzy had walked in the small yard by the house, that Teresa froze with a pang straight through her heart. With a disappointed sigh, she kissed Izzy who sat complacently on her hip. The somewhat groggy babe sighed as well, resting her autumn head on Teresa's breast.

"She held on tah my fingers the whole way," Jake surprised all three of them. He leaned in the doorway his arms crossed over his chest. One side of his mouth curled up in a mischievous smile that spoke of the sensuous night they had shared. Teresa blushed through her smile as she noted his now finely quaffed appearance. He was clean-shaven now; his auburn hair neatly combed back, yet still somewhat long as it swept along the square collar of his white shirt. Jake had donned his Sunday best as well, wearing his sharp black vest and matching charcoal slacks. His gold watch chain glistened against the dark background of his stomach as he ran his hand through the thick tufts of his hair. "Thought maybe after church we might stop off for ah trim, before we catch the train back."

"Actually," Teresa rose blissfully happy to be surrounded by her family again. She handed Izzy over to Jake's waiting arms, that she might help Lucy to get ready. "I thought perhaps we might diverge from our usual schedule, this Sunday."

"Oh?" Jake furrowed his brow perplexed.

Teresa stifled a chuckle at Jake's inability to admit when he didn't understand a complicated word, "Perhaps this Sunday…instead of mass in Denver, we could attend church in town?"

As Teresa helped Lucy to poke her head through her pale yellow dress, Lucy protested, "But I wanted to ride the train!"

"We may ride the train next Sunday," Teresa reasoned pulling Lucy's arms through the short scalloped sleeves. The light daffodil shade of the dress, off set Lucy's complexion, making her skin appear pleasantly fair.

"Besides," Teresa ran an all too knowing eye over Jake. He may wear the outward appearance of health and vitality, but one glance into his darkening steel eyes told her he was tiring quickly. However well Jake thought he was fooling her, she knew he still felt weak, and his stubbornness wouldn't allow him to stay home. "I think a long ride might be a bit much at the moment."

Jake watched as Teresa's practiced hands set to picking and combing each of Lucy's fat glossy ringlets, into place. He wanted to argue with her considering the length of time he'd had to endure without her. How he'd love to pump some fire into those passionate veins of hers, just to warm her up. Yet, as he observed her determination to get Lucy ready for church, he knew she'd have her way. No doubt, this was something she and Dr. Mike had cooked up last night. He smiled just wide enough to show a hint of his front teeth, before he stepped close to them and kissed them both on the cheek. "Guess I'll change Izzy then," he grinned as he strutted out the door.

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Celina hovered close to the open door of the church watching while the town's people rallied their wagons along the thick grass of the meadow. She held her fingerless white lace gloved hand, over her pale brow, blocking the brightness of the morning sun. So this was how it would be, she thought observing the way the women politely shunned her. Apparently, she was good enough to make their dresses, though not worthy of a greeting or commonplace chat. As her mossy eyes fell on the tight trio of women standing aloft near the simple cemetery picket, Celina fought to maintain a pleasant veneer on her face.

They were clearly discussing her, and it didn't take a genius to realize that Dr. Quinn was the ringleader. Now and then Mrs. Jennings spoke behind her hands, allowing her frosty blue eyes to float over Celina's direction, before sighing and dramatically dropping her hands to her sides, conceding in agreement to something. But it was Ms. Grace which was the boldest of the three. She thought nothing of looking Celina up and down with a cocked eyebrow. The corner of her subtly rouged lips mashed up in condemnation, as she shook her head with disapproval.

Attempting to give off an air of indifference, Celina forced herself to look away. At least the men were acting with a much more polite accommodation. The Reverend had greeted her with much fanfare, informing her of how praised he'd heard her work had been among the ladies. How he'd hoped they might take advantage of her services during the holiday pageants. Mr. Bray, although seemingly deep in some disparaging thought, wished her a good morning and offered her a seat at his side, during the service. She'd thought she may have been mistaken, or had a look of disappointment crossed his face when she agreed. In fact, now that she thought about it more closely, the men seemed to be pushing a kind of forced civility on her, to quite an uncomfortable degree. This must be that rogue, Mr. Lawson's doing. What had he spread about her to the town?

It was then that a tense hush seemed to fall across the meadow. A solitary wagon was crossing the bridge at a brisk easy pace. Her line of sight swam to him instantly captivated, as the wagon grew closer. Unaware of her own actions Celina crossed the small landing of the church and supported herself on the rail closest the parked wagons. Throat clenching her eyes shaded sinisterly as Jake jumped from the high bench. He was smiling, intently as Teresa lowered Izzy down into his waiting arms. Lucy who had long since jumped down from the wagons bed took charge of her sister, as Jake helped Teresa from the high bench himself. Celina's nails dug into the cracking white paint of the stair rails.

"Oh what a lovely dress," Mrs. Jennings lightly padded Teresa's arm as she lifted Izzy from Lucy's grateful arms. The child ran off in the direction of a small cluster of children congregating under the large mushroom shaped oak in the middle of the cemetery.

"Thank you," she nodded smiling towards Jake's admiring expression. His hand rested protectively on the small of her back. With his other hand, he'd flipped the opening of his charcoal gray duster back, that he might rest his hand on his hip. Momentarily, they conversed; unaware of the cozily woven bond they seemed to be exuding.

Finally, strolling towards the steps of the church, Celina held her breath. The inevitable was approaching. The woman that stood between her and Jake was nearing. Celina could feel every eye watching this slow moving train wreck about to happen. What was only taking seconds felt like an eternity as Jake ushered his wife and baby closer and closer. As though of their own accord Celina's feet drew her to step down towards them, with her slender snowy hands fisted at her jealous sides. She could feel it burning, sizzling the skin at her back. Certain her face had flushed brightly, her eyes settled on them. The brim of Jake's black Stetson covered his eye's concealing any hint of expression. Dense as the atmosphere was, Celina turned to face down Teresa. She raised herself up like an emerald eyed viper about to strike, when his foot slid forward, cutting her off.


	18. Chapter 18

"Jake! Teresa!" the Reverend affably greeted them, completely unaware of the attack he'd thwarted. "I didn't know this would be our week with you."

"Well," Jake pushed back the brim of his Stetson purposefully avoiding eye contact with the shrinking fiend behind the Reverend. "We've had our fill of trains for the week."

"Yes," Teresa held her ground smiling politely. "It is good to be home…where I belong."

Though the Reverend's unseeing eyes remained still, his head shifted between their assumed positions, "It's certainly good to have you back. I can already hear the joy in Jake's voice."

As Jake continued to chat happily with the blessed barrier that was the Reverend, Teresa found she could no longer keep her eyes from falling on the woman who was now nudging her way back into the church. The woman was beautiful to say the least. She appeared as a porcelain doll, petit and angular. Her hair was braided in a thick satin like band around her head like a crown, crimson as the ruby stone of Teresa's engagement ring. Long dark chestnut lashes curled to advantage around the most breath taking eyes, Teresa had ever seen. They were a richly deep murky green that shone like the glass eyes of a doll. Absently, Teresa held her fist to her heart, realizing if it hadn't been for her faith in Jake, this woman might be a threat. Feeling uncertain now, Teresa gazed back at Michaela, wanting to bit down on her lower lip. Michaela smiled reassuringly, letting her know there were friends in her corner.

Teresa furrowed her brow a little shaken, as Lucy joined them, remaining in the slivery cloak of her skirts. Shifting Izzy on her hip, she hugged Lucy maternally to her side as the Reverend ushered them into the church. As they passed, Celina inched her way back as though seemingly affected by Jake's presence. Teresa looked from Jake's determined face, as he rushed them through the door, then back towards Celina's expression. There had been something there. Some glimmer of familiarity on this woman's part, when she beheld her husbands face. As they took their seats behind the first two vacant benches, Teresa was unable to put this odd picture out of her mind. It was a puzzling expression which pulled her attentions, so that when Jake gently reached his arm around her shoulders along the benches back, she jumped slightly.

"You alright?" his voice hummed low into her ear.

She forced herself to smile as she nodded in the affirmative. Gradually, as the small church filled and Michaela and her family seated themselves in the row before them, Teresa allowed herself to relax. The absurdity of the situation began to pass on into the caverns of her mind. It wasn't until Loren's gently aged hand patted Jake's shoulder from behind them, that Teresa truly felt as though they were being studied.

"Ah, it's good tah see yah back tah your old self, Jake," Loren tilted his head with a smile. He then turned to Teresa, "Just got some new fabric in yesterday. Give yah a percentage off…it's the most brilliant sapphire blue!" He splayed his hands in the air, to mimic the bursting of stars.

As Teresa peered over her shoulder, she caught sight of Celina sitting calmly beside Loren. Her eyes were downcast with her petit hands bundled in her lap. "It sounds very beautiful. Perhaps as a new coat for Lucy."

"Ah sure," he lovingly patted Lucy on the head. "Bring her in, and we'll take her measurements."

Dorothy, who had just seated herself opposite Loren, cleared her throat. Everyone shifted awkwardly becoming silent, as the Reverend tapped his way up to the pulpit. The entire room stilled all at once as every eye drew to the only man, who could sway the tension of the small drama in another direction. He stood, unassuming before his congregation, betraying not a grain of pejorative nature in his complacent demeanor.

"We've spoken to this subject before," the Reverend began, his tone firm yet genial. "And now I feel the need has risen once more to bring it to the forefront… Scandal. In it's many forms…"

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Once again, the town seemed to stand vacant and bright before Randall. He strode cool as the breeze out of the dimly lit saloon and out into the sun-drenched streets of the town. Distantly, a monotonously straining hymn drifted across the bridge and down between the clinic and the saloon, before it died at Randall's feet. Nearly the entire town was down at the church, barring the trickle of dregs barely holding their heads up at the bar.

Body standing lank he hooked his thumbs into the rim of his black trousers at the small of his back. He swiveled slightly, deep in thought, wondering at the missing proprietor of the Gold Nugget. He hadn't greeted him as he'd checked in, nor had he made his presence known as Randall strolled around the "dining" tables, of the bar room and out the swinging doors. Taking in his surroundings Randall hopped down from the shaded porch and nonchalantly strolled around the corner and towards the boarding house. Surreptitiously, he backed himself up onto the white porch, cautious that not a soul stirred. Finding no further reason to delay, he prepared himself for a locked door only to discover it unlatched and resting against the jam.

"Hmmm," he mused creeping into the rather cozy house. The walls were painted in a pastel green hue, bordered with a carved strip of gold molding which traveled horizontally down the center of the walls down a hallway. Atop this strip was a thick ivory band of wallpaper with a cluster of mauve primroses serving as a pattern. Randall crept down this hall about to begin his search for Ms. Marrow's room when he heard a dull thud emanating from the open door at the far end. He drew himself up straight, fighting to decide which avenue he should take, when a tall lion's mane of a man stepped out from the frame of the open door. The icy blue eyes of a lion peered startled into the cool cerulean embers of a cougar's jovial stare.

"Friend or foe?" Hank swung an object behind his back as he grinned from beneath his mass of sun kissed locks.

"A friend of your friend if you're Hank Lawson," Randall staggered his stance as he placed his hands on his hips.

"Yeah," Hank remained cautious tucking a few thick wavy strands behind his ear. "My friend gotta name?"

"Slicker?"

"Yeah Slicker," Hank exhaled pursing his lips into a stifled grin. _This must be the man everyone's been squakin' about, who brought Teresa home. _"You McCoy?"

Randall dropped his head forward with a nod, his lips pressing into a sealed smile. Once again, they watched each other, sizing up and judging the other to be whom and what he claimed. It was immediately apparent they had both come for the same reason as they mutually entered Celina's room.

It was a room like any other in the boarding house, decorated in a quaint country fashion. The walls were papered in pink and pastel blushed rosebuds as clusters on an ivory field. There was a mahogany four-poster bed with a cream-colored floral spread. Two bureau's of the same grain of wood, one containing an oval framed mirror, over a white lace runner. It was here that Randall had wandered tapping his fingertips along the worn combs, and bristle brush, until he discovered the tiny glass vial. The dainty vial felt foreign in his rough hands as he pulled out the tiny round knob and attached stem. He waved the glass stem under his nose wafting the scent up his nostrils.

"Yep," he said replacing the stem and placing the vial back in its place. "That's the perfume Mr. Slicker smelled. It's just like Teresa's."

Hank raised his acutely bent brow at this. Coming close to Randall, he looked him up from the back of his ebony boots, to the top of his thickly tufted towhead. He wasn't an outwardly pretty man, but Hank reasoned, neither was Jake. Yet, there was something in his demeanor, something pleasing in his manner that seemed to disarm a person. It wasn't devious, and it wasn't misleading. Hank could not place his finger on it, no matter how he fought to be suspicious of this man. A man who had spent quite an amount of time alone with Jake's wife. Enough time it seemed to become accustomed with her predilection for rose scented perfumes.

"Close quarters, was it?" Hank's head bobbed sharply forward into Randall's space and back. "On the train?"

Once again, Randall's chin pointed down as his eyes smiled upwards not really looking at Hank. He knew full well what the man was getting at, and he couldn't resist the urge to poke at him. "Yep, on the horse too."

Hank gritted his teeth stepping back still holding onto the mysterious object at his back. However picking up on Hank's scathing cue, Randall relented, focusing his bright gemlike eyes on him with warning. "She's as much a lady now as ever."

There was a moment of silence between them while Hank fought within himself. Finally, reaching some point of satisfaction, Hank tossed a framed picture onto the bed. Randall sighed lifting the simple walnut frame and studying the content.

"I take it yah met Jake. Yah know what he looks like," Hank leaned against the doorframe.

Randall nodded. The woman was crazy and here was the proof, literally smiling up at him. It was a family portrait, clearly not of Celina's kin. A man, his wife, and there small toddler smiling brightly. Though the portrait was in black and gray tones, it was apparent the mother had been fair haired as was the child resting cheerily in her lap. Their heart shaped faces spoke of bliss and plenty as they nestled close to a very familiar looking man. He was much more angular than Jake was, however the shapes and lines of their faces ran a haunting parallel. A similar shapely full lipped mouth which curved pleasantly at their corners. The same slightly oblique shaped eyes peering out from under softly inclined brows. The very air and attitude of Jake and yet not. Randall flipped the frame studying the hard black cardboard backing. Running his thumb across some silver inked script written across the backing, he looked questioningly at Hank.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was Izzy," Hank froze sticking his nose in the air.

Together they honed in to their surroundings, taking stock of the sudden shift within the town. There was silence, before the laughter of children echoed like tinkling chimes down the street. Distant murmurings began to hum from without, with the clanking wrenching of wagons being moved. Simultaneously, the pair went rigid.

"Church is over," Hank whispered snatching the portrait from Randall's grasp.


	19. Chapter 19

Ruling the sky the golden crown of the sun shown down across the meadow, sending children running for any shady break they might find. The few remaining parishioners skirted the cemetery picket, prolonging the inevitable stroll under the now blazing sun, back into town. No matter how the heat rolled on, the surrounding flora basked in the lit splendor. The chartreuse stems of sour grass sprang up along the borders of the field, with their striking yellow trumpets stretching open mouthed to the bright sky. Round plump bumblebees hummed along the random patches of pastel cornflowers, lazy saffron poppies, and the pure white spokes of jumping daises.

Unperturbed by the brightness of the sun, Lucy searched about the clover beds near the church steps, plucking up the fat feathery orbs of dandelion snow. With each snowy orb which she held to her chest, Lucy closed her eyes tightly willing her wish into the delicate ball. Her chest heaved inward before she blew with all her might sending tiny white parachute pappas drifting out into the air.

"What'd yah wish for?" Jake's long body cast its shadow over Lucy. His face was shaded by the bowed brim of his hat, as he smiled down at her. The gray storm had passed in Jake's eyes turning them back to their usual dark lapis hue. A flippant spring played within his countenance bringing him back to life.

Lucy rolled her own kaleidoscope of blue and gray spheres which shone through her laughing eyes, "Papa! You're not suppose to tell."

Like a reflex, his hands flipped back the squaretails of his duster, before resting on his hips. He smiled crookedly tilting his head. "Not even me?"

Unknowingly, Lucy mimicked his stance, curling her blushing lips into a similar lighthearted smirk. "If I tell you…it won't come true."

"Oh! Well," Jake exaggerated his tone, rolling his head back. "That's different then."

He reached out caressing her cheek with his curled forefinger. Her flushed skin felt rather warm to the touch, alarming him. Without a second thought, Jake plucked the hat off of his head, running his long white fingers through his hair. Plopping the black Stetson playfully over Lucy's ebony curls Jake stifled a chuckle. The too large hat fell passed her eyes and over her little nose, somewhat blinding her. Lucy giggled pushing the wide brim back on her head. She breathed in enjoying how the hat seemed steeped in the essence of her father. It smelled like the barbershop, cologne musk, wood, leather, and cigar. Her fingers pinched at the rough and hardened felt as she held the brim from her eyes.

"Jake?" Teresa called to them from where she stood next to the wagon in a confidential cluster with Michaela, Dorothy, and Grace. Izzy was draped over Teresa's chest with her slumbering head resting atop her shoulder. Her hand gentling rubbing circles on the babe's small back, she smiled as Jake and Lucy drew nearer. "I think it is getting far too hot for Izzy."

"Here," Dorothy offered stepping forward with her pink parasol overhead. She held the much needed silk panel over Izzy, as she took up the spot between Jake and Teresa. Fawning over the sleeping child, Dorothy lightly soothed a wavy lock of autumn from Izzy's forehead.

"As I was sayin'," Grace continued, fanning herself with a braided wicker fan. Her brow rose up under the bangs of her sable ringlets. "Most every night, she's had Robert E fetch her ah horse…she's gone most thah night. COMES back. And that horse is in the stable 'fore the break of dawn! Now las' night she stayed away and he says he saw her sneakin' intah the boardin' house! So whatcha gottah say about that?"

Michaela shifted nervously. She knew full well that Celina was creeping around Jake's home, however; the need to maintain level heads prevailed. With her petite hands clasp in front of her cobalt skirts, Michaela calmly suggested, "Well, no one has really seen where she's gone off too. It may well be completely innocent."

Michaela turned her moss and earth toned eyes toward Jake, forcing him to read her expression. "_Have_ you noticed anything odd? Jake?"

"No," he cleared his throat exhaling rather forcefully. He could feel Dorothy and Grace studying him, searching for any minuscule hint that he'd been concealing any falsehood. Wanting desperately to look away, Jake thought he'd caught a glimmer of doubt in their eyes. It was only there for a second. Could it be they imagined he could stray from his wife? However, before anyone could say another word, Izzy stirred. She shifted uncomfortably in Teresa's arms, scrunching up her face with a slight whine.

" sh sh sh," Teresa swayed softly, gingerly caressing Izzy's back. "I really think I must get the children out of the sun."

"Yes," Michaela smiled in relief. She turned about searching for Sully and Katie. As if on cue, the quiet pair appeared from around the massive oak canopying the small cemetery. Even beneath the thick cooling shade, their matching cool eyes beamed with all the clarity of sapphires. Upon joining Michaela, Sully absently ran his tan fingers through Katie's satiny gold and copper tresses, as she strolled along in front of him.

"Everything ok?" he asked shifting his warm terra cotta hued waves back over his shoulder. Under the bright sun, tiny golden strands shimmered lighting up his tan face to advantage.

Michaela nodded as they shared an unspoken secret. "I'm hungry," Katie pressed shading her eyes with her hands.

"Me too," Lucy joined in, before her father's hat fell back down over her face.

"Well, I know just how tah fix that," Grace sashayed forward taking Lucy and Katie by the hands. As the group started to move, Jake maneuvered around them and knocked on the graying wood of the side of the wagon.

"I'll be right there," he jumped up onto the high bench intending to park the wagon in front of the barbershop. However, at the sight of Teresa's hesitation he added, "Go on. Get outta the sun…won't take a minute."

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One minute turned into twenty, as Mr. Dickenson had haughtily jumbled his way up the barbershop steps, waving his birch cane in Jake's face. The bowed old gent went on to demand his usual trim and shave, of which he'd been robbed of for the passed few days. With a gruff sigh, Jake had obliged, opening the doors for him, but leaving the closed sign out. Jake worked steadily, focusing on the task at hand, brushing the creamed lather over the man's rough cheeks and jaw. As he slid his straight razor back and forth along the polished leather strap, Jake was never so grateful to have such a taciturn customer. Yet, his eyes wandered back to the door, fearful that someone else may come barging in for a shave. Jake's practiced hands made quick work of the job, and before he knew it, he was wiping Mr. Dickinson's face clean, and brushing off his lapels.

Mr. Dickinson groaned lurching from the barber's chair. Irately, he tossed Jake his two bits without a second thought and shuffled his way out the door. Jake sighed pulling the gold fob out from the small black sheath of his vest pocket. His middle finger pressed hard into the tiny snatch pin, snapping the round door open with a click. He was more than just a little late. Hurriedly, he clasped the faintly ticking timekeeper shut, replacing it, as he shot about the shop. The straight blade must be sanitized and the hair trimmings swept up and thrown into the ashcan before he left. With his back turned to the door, he filled the white porcelain basin from the pitcher and began washing his hands. So preoccupied was he that the gentle way the door opened and closed behind him didn't register alarm.

"I'm closed," Jake said without turning as he wiped his hands dry with a linen towel.

"I need to talk to you," her voice was light and melodic like the straight note of a flute. "I really think you've got the wrong idea about me…and now your wife is here…and well people are talking."

Jake spun around feeling an insatiable need to back up, only to find himself pressed against the shelf drawers. "Celina? I-I-I mean Ms. Marrow! You can't be here."

She drew closer maintaining the façade of meek grace and salacious intrigue. Resting her hands on the back of the barber's chair, she drew her lashes downward, in an attractive pose. "Please, don't send me away," her face wore the mask of innocence and beauty, as she peered into his shaken eyes. "I can only imagine what you must be thinking of me. And you couldn't be more wrong."

As Jake took her in, he couldn't knock the sensation that she seemed poisonous somehow. Everything in him was screaming to bolt from this viper before she struck filling his life with her venom. "I'm married. I love my wife."

"Yes, I know you love your wife Har-," she stopped herself demurely stepping around the chair and standing directly in front of Jake. "Mr. Slicker…My only interest is friendship."

Her swan like neck tilted her chin up bringing her pink lips into his line of sight. Jake's hands were clenched around the rim of the shelf bureau tethering him to the spot. Short of knocking her down, he had no place to run. Why was he so frightened of her? She was such a wisp of a creature he felt he could snap her like a twig. But those eyes, those murky emerald eyes, transfixed him. Holding him in her sway like a mesmerized fool, Jake couldn't comprehend the scene happening before him. Celina rose on her toes bringing herself so close to his face she could feel his breath on her lips. Could see the pulse in his pale neck as he swallowed nervously. Before Jake knew it, her white laced hands were pressing on his chest as her lips softly grazed his own.

There was a crack in the world. A crack so deep Jake actually felt pain deep down in his soul. It stirred something. Stoked some ember down in the depths of his belly, turning it into a flame. The flame that raged waking his temper and giving strength to his arms, creating iron in his hands. As Celina began to deepen her kiss, her lips parting into his, he reached up and grasped her shoulders. Brow furrowed Jake shoved her away from him sending her sprawling into the barber's chair. Wiping her kiss from his lips like it was burning acid; Jake took a step feeling a searing pain in his heart. It was the feeling of a heart breaking and shattering into a million pieces, in his chest.

Only this feeling didn't seem to be his own. It was lying like a fog over his anger and outrage, causing the silvery cords of his heart to vibrate. The vibration was anguish calling his attentions finally to the now open doorway, and there she stood.

"Teresa," he pleaded taking another step closer to her.

Teresa held up her hand instantly freezing him in his tracks. Her chest rose and fell in labored waves chilling Jake down to the bone. Lips fighting not to tremble, her darkening russet eyes watched him. They drooped beneath her worried brows, filling with tears. Jake had seen her frighten before; had seen her terrified and shocked. Had seen her bursting with worry and physical pain. But never had he witnessed the look of abject derailment. It was Teresa's heart which had broken, ripped to tattered shreds within the walls of her chest, and Jake had felt it. There was a crack in the world, and they stood at its precipice. Waiting…


	20. Chapter 20

"Did you ever think we would be here like this?" Michaela asked after hanging her medical bag from its handle around her saddle horn. Her hair was a cascade of copper, gold, and sandy brown ribbons which shimmered with all the gleaming of a glassy lake, beneath the moonlight.

Teresa smiled warmly shaking her head at the follies of their past and how asinine they were in the scheme of things present. "In truth…no. But, I am most happy that it is different now."

Together they looked passed the porch of the terrace and through the wide parlor window. Jake was leaning back into the corner of the sofa holding the moist linen compress against his forehead. He was conversing lightly with Randall who was crossing the parlor and out of sight as he entered the darkened foyer. Teresa turned back to Michaela with a sigh. There was something she desperately wanted to get out, yet couldn't find the appropriate words to broach the subject. Observing this Michaela pressed her lips into a crooked smile. She didn't need to hear the words as they were so aptly woven into Teresa countenance.

"Thank you, for coming," Teresa self consciously tucked loose strands of hair behind her ears. "Thank you… Michaela."

This was a declaration which had yet to be spoken but was always deeply felt. Brightening, Michaela reached forward gently brushing Teresa's arm with understanding. Yes, woven together by their children, by their children's love of a certain Cheyenne father and grandfather, and now they would be by mutual camaraderie.

"We all set?" Randall skipped down the steps, ready to accompany Michaela home. As he mounted Cin' Teresa waved wishing them a safe trip before she turned to walk up the terrace steps.

"Teresa! Wait," Michaela still stood firmly by Flash. "I…I don't suppose I have to tell you." She gestured at the window towards Jake, "He loves you."

Placing her fist to her heart, Teresa nodded, knowing how Jake had behaved in the past. She knew every hideous turn, and cowardly stoop. Yet, more than that, she knew how Jake had transformed himself. How he'd become the man that she knew and the man that was the father to her children.

"I know," she stood tall. "I know."

So now, with this memory blooming around her shattered heart Teresa forced herself to look at Jake. He was beside himself, unsure how to stand, shifting his hands between resting on his hips, and roughly raking his fingers through his hair. Looking further upward, she saw how his Adam's apple sucked in as he gulped down hard. How his lips pursed into a straight line until the corners curled downward holding his words at bay, waiting for her. And his eyes. Jake was visibly in pain, and his changing eyes told the story with more eloquence than his words ever could. His heart was broken because her heart was broken. Deep within those steel blue eyes, there was anger, and there was anguish. Yet, Teresa knew within the depths, under the storm where cool lapis waters drifted, there was love for her.

She drew on this for the strength she needed, to do what she felt was right. Drawing herself up tight as a bow, she turned to face Celina who was slinking her way out of the chair. Celina forced a shameful palette of expression to mold her face, as she maneuvered closer to the door. Yet, with every step, Teresa nudged forward, studying her, seeming to be searching for something in her attitude. Finally, as Celina reached out her hand to pull open the wood framed door, Teresa stopped her. She grabbed at her wrist holding her firmly, yet causing no stress. It was the hold of one woman to another, the look of a wife searching the depths of an unfeeling soul, for a small spark of compassion.

"Why?" she asked desperately hoping there had been a misunderstanding. A misunderstanding would be preferable to the stories of outlandish trespassing, unrelenting deception, and the reproachful slander of Hank's character.

Finding herself intrigued by the fawn tinted hue of Teresa's skin over her own alabaster flesh Celina blinked. Her interest was drawn by how strongly it had perplexed her. Cautiously, Celina drew her eye up truly taking in the barrier, in the form of Teresa Slicker. All the heartbreak, faith, and hope that washed this woman's face, only endeavored to feed Celina's notion that she was weak. Another milksop of a wife, which would simper and look away.

"He didn't act like a married man," her voice was low and inaudible to Jake's straining ears. Now her viridian serpents eyes locked with Teresa's darkening mahogany amber gems. "You're looking for fault in the wrong person."

What new breed of calumny was this? Fast as a switch, Teresa's mouth smirked in disbelief, as her lashes narrowly hooded her now suspicious eyes, and one raised brow. Wanting to tighten her grasp, she inhaled instead, realizing the scope the situation. Teresa forced herself to release the woman, but remained close taking on a haughty air. "And I wonder. Did my child act as though she had no mother?"

Celina coiled feeling her head heat beneath the flames of her hair, "Yes, maybe the blame should go to the absentee. She came just as willingly into my arms as he did."

It happened fast as a lightening strike. Teresa's hand flew out slapping Celina across the face with enough force to knock her head into the framed glass of the shop door. The panes rattled with the ricocheting smack, as Celina's head bounced back, nearly bringing her down to the floor. Simultaneously, Jake winced jumping slightly, with the unexpected retaliation. Holding her aching hand in the other, Teresa took a step back into Jake's arms. He quickly surveyed the way the palm had reddened, and was beginning to swell. But Teresa's eyes blazed unable to look away from where Celina crouched holding her face in shock and extreme pain. "I will say this only once. I do not wish to see you near my family again. They are MY family, _Ms_. _Marrow_," Teresa drew up closer to Celina as she glared through her hand. "What kind of woman comes to attempt to destroy a marriage? Jake would no more turn from me than I would from him."

Teresa reached out with her good hand, and flung the door open for the vile snake. She waited until Celina was crossing the threshold before she said angrily close to her ear, "I will see you gone…if only for wronging my daughters, the way that you did."

Together they waited until Celina stepped down from the walk and disappeared among the throng of town's folk bustling under the sweltering sun. Jake placed his hands on her shoulders, spinning her around to face him. Body trembling with her actions, and feeling the stress of what had just transpired; Teresa found she couldn't look up into his face. She couldn't bring herself to hold him, nor did she want him to comfort her. All she wanted to do was back out of the barbershop, collect her daughters from Grace's, and go home. Feet moving of their own volition, she felt herself pulling away from Jake. In her shattered heart, down in the confines of her soul, in every fiber and cell of her being, she knew Jake had done nothing wrong. However, something felt tainted, and broken. Something felt lost beyond her grasp, like water draining from between her fingers.

Slowly turning on her heel, she made to open the door to leave. Jake called her name, yet she continued pulling the door back. No. His hand slammed the door shut, pulling the knob from her hand. With his hands still leaning against the windowpanes just above her, Jake stared determinately at her weeping face. His shoulders slumped, seeing how deeply she had been cut by what she had walked in on. How was it that she loved him so much? Taking her by the elbow, he held her in front of him, and tucking his finger under her chin, Jake forced her to look him in the eye.

"I told yah, never tah pull away from me," the words he'd spoken to her during Lucy's birth. "That yah had my heart…and my soul."

"Jake," it was like a whisper. There was a burning heat emanating in her chest, spindling with a numb throbbing, that choked at her throat. Her worried brows, pushed over the teary crescents of her crying eyes as she stared distressed at his mouth. Would he taste of her? Would he draw comparisons between them? She couldn't control the thoughts in his mind; nor did she want to. All that was clear was that she couldn't bring herself to kiss him now. Couldn't place her hands on his chest and run them down along his ribs, when they drew closer.

Seeing how tortured she appeared, Jake grabbed her hand gently pulling her towards the hutch, were the water basin stood, still full of water. Searching along the shelves, he selected a clear glass bottle with a white label. It was decorated with gold, burgundy, and green filigree, boasting the title Eau de Cologne, in thick gentry' letters. Without hesitation, Jake yanked the cork out with a muffled pop and took in the dark chartreuse liquid. He swished it bitterly about his mouth, making mockingly disgusted faces, before he gargled and spit the fowl astringent from his mouth into the basin. Covering the bowl with a linen towel, Jake flashed one of his trademark grins at her, eliciting a smile behind her hand.

"What's next?" he winked looking down at his vest.

Removing his watch and chain which he placed on top of the bureau of the hutch, he began unbuttoning his vest. Teresa sighed reaching her hand out to stop him. She winced a little as she had used her sore hand. Seeing this Jake lovingly enveloped it with his own. As he did this the sleeve of her dress inched down revealing the slightly raised scars down along her arm. Over time, they had faded and diminished due to the administrations of Cloud Dancing's herbal concoctions and Dr. Mike's persistent clinical interventions. What remained now where the silvery raised web of echoes from the past. Jake nestled the back of her hand with his lips before turning it over and kissing the ruddy palm. His fingers lightly caressed the light bumps of her burn scars, as though the skin had been smooth as silk. Jake was blind to what she felt were things to be ashamed of.

Teresa tugged at her sleeve hiding her forearm from view. Of course, she loved him. Of course, she trusted him. As sure as she was of these truths, she knew she had to tell him, what was going on inside her. Voice trembling she peered into the moving slate blue haze of his eyes, "My heart is broken."

Jake pulled her to him wrapping his arms tightly around her body. She molded into him with her hands resting against the middle of his back. Pressing his lips to her forehead, Jake exhaled gruffly, "My heart's broken too."

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Celina slammed the door behind her, throwing herself down onto the bed. Pressing her fingers firmly into her cheek, she felt the warm tang of her sore skin. Not daring to look in the mirror just yet, she resigned herself to weathering the aching throbbing of her cheek. Her eye felt as though it were about to explode, not to mention the growing lump on the opposite side of her head. So she had misjudged the woman.

"Not so weak after all," she mused.

Absently, Celina slid her hand beneath the pillows feeling around for the familiar frame which would bring her comfort and reassurance. However, finding only the cool smoothness of the cotton and linen sheets, she frowned with panic. Sitting up she tossed down the ivory pillows, finding only empty space where the framed photograph should have been.

"Haaarrrrissss!" she screamed ripping down the covers and searching frantically about the room. Haphazardly, opening drawers and rummaging through parchments of dress sketching's, and half made garments, she felt something snap within her head.

"You'll leave her. You'll leave her, for me and the baby," it became her mantra. "You'll leave her…You'll …leave…her…"


	21. Chapter 21

Like two looming predators, Hank and Randall loitered under the cool awning of the saloon's porch. Rowdy dregs trotted in and out completely oblivious to the pair, stocking the route Celina took down the street, with their eyes. Hank leaned back in the shadows, one leg bent up supporting himself against the wall by the window. His lips closed around the stout cigar which cast long curling tendrils of smoke before his face. Forcing himself not to react, he observed the way Celina covered one side of her face as she rushed towards the boarding house. Hank shrugged his shoulders with a complacent grin, and stretching his torso, he lightly chuckled. He'd heard the dense smack and rattle of the glass panes from his position, yet hadn't dared to hope.

Randall was ever on point, and the moment he saw Celina pass, his line of sight fell back on the front of the barbershop, waiting. With his elbows leaning on the round hitching post, Randall rested his chin in his palm, the tips of his fingers resting on his bottom lip. The maroon shades that lined the roofs of the walk shadowed the glass panes, blocking any view inside the shop, Randall would have hoped to see. Moments slipped by and still no movement from within; no volatile expressions cried out, only quiet and only calm. Randall perched upwards now balancing his forearms on the posts. "Gently boy…gently," he murmured in a droll manner, as though Jake could hear him.

Hank pushed himself off the wall and came to stand beside Randall.

"Hmmmmm," Hank hummed thoughtfully wondering which outcome had won out. Either Teresa had hit Jake as well, knocking him out cold, or what he thought had transpired hadn't actually occurred. Randall stood up straight now, hooking his thumbs at the back rim of his black pants. His whole body shrugged as he stood like a slack pillar in juxtaposition to Hank's mountain like stance. Thus, the pair continued to wait. At an interval, the two felines turned to each other mentally deciding to walk out and investigate, when the shop's door swung open. Teresa was nursing her hand as she waited for Jake to lock up the barbershop.

Jake stretched one arm protectively about her as he ushered her down the steps and across the street. There was determination in his step as he blocked her from the outside of the street, and brought her up on the clinics walk. Hank called out to him only to watch as Jake unflinchingly walked Teresa into the clinic.

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The inside of the clinic was a blessing from the thickly heated air of the brightly lit street. Although she didn't feel she needed to be fawned over, Teresa conceded, allowing Dr. Mike to examine her hand. As Michaela's skilled fingers firmly pressed along every bone and joint, Teresa watched Jake. He was standing akimbo, with his eyes glued to every reaction elicited by the two women. Finally, as she worked her way into the swollen palm, Teresa flinched involuntarily jerking away from Michaela. The swift action had Jake nearly jumping out of his skin with worry. She was only back a night and a day, and already he had failed to keep her safe.

"Sorry," the corner of Teresa's mouth curled up sympathetically, as she offer her hand again. Her soft mahogany hued eyes settled warmly on Jake's face, somehow soothing his wild agitation.

Michaela only smiled, patting her hand very gingerly. "I don't believe anything is broken." She focused professionally once more, as she gave the skin another look. "The flesh does appear to be rather raw…Katie will you fill that bowl with water, please?"

"Sure, Ma," she parted from her observations of her mother's examination, in order to carry out her new assistant's duty.

"She bruises real easy," Jake offered stepping out of Katie's way as she brought the shallow porcelain bowl of water, and placed it on the examination table.

"I want it to soak a little to bring down the swelling, before I wrap it," Michaela went on plunging Teresa's hand into the refreshingly cold liquid. "Calendula should bring the swelling down as well."

"I will pick some from the garden when we get home," Teresa nodded in agreement.

As Katie busied herself readying the gauze wrappings, the trio eyed one another nervously. Matters had escalated badly, and they knew they had to talk. Jake nodded in Katie's direction remaining silent as he drew closer to Teresa's side. Nibbling on her lower lip, Michaela ran through her mental list of excuses.

"Katie, why don't you run over to Graces and see how Lucy and Izzy are doing?" Michaela looked to Teresa.

"Yes," Teresa added catching on. "Perhaps, you could ask Cloud Dancing if he would take them home."

Katie's brow disappeared beneath her coppery bangs, as she observed the tension emanating from the adults. Her sapphire eyes took them each in, adding up the strangeness of this visit. It was odd that her mother hadn't asked Mrs. Slicker how she had hurt her hand. Odd how Mr. Slicker was hovering like a nervous bee about his wife. Vaguely, she wondered if this had anything to do with Lucy's suspicions about Ms. Marrow. However, the blithe thread that was woven within her, that was her father, took over. She relented with a happy nod, exiting the clinic for Graces.

As Michaela opened her mouth about to bombard the couple with questions, the clinic's door hastily swung open again, revealing the incongruous duo of Randall and Hank. On seeing the testy nature of Teresa's injury, Randall haphazardly bypassed Hank, to get to her side. Though his concern was purely platonic, Jake dug his brows down, watching Randall surveying his wife.

"You give her something to remember you by?" Randall quipped motioning toward her hand.

"Rather shamefully…Yes," she felt a blush blooming at her cheeks, at her emboldened retaliation on Celina. It had frightened her to have struck out at someone. Even someone as vile as that woman. Teresa looked to Michaela who was now holding her hand up to her face, in awe. If Teresa's hand was any indication of the blow, she might soon see that detestable woman in the clinic.

During this exchange, Hank had sauntered behind Michaela's desk and made himself at home in her chair. With his elbows perched on the armrests, he'd laced his fingers over his stomach, watching. Watching the way Jake's jealousy simmered, at the way this newcomer had taken a liking to Teresa. Sure, he was aware of the fact that there was nothing there, but the absurd possibilities which were no doubt sprouting in Jake's mind, tickled him. Hank's Cheshire cat's smile drew Michaela's displeased attentions, as she crossed the crowded room to look down at him.

"Hank. You'd better have a good reason for walking in here like this," she fumed placing her hands on the edge of her desk. A small shaft of light had cast upon her face, through the window, lighting up the deep honey tint and soft olive green hue of her eyes. One finely shaped brow rose with an air of daring.

Unperturbed, Hank nodded joyously in Jake's direction, "An' it's a reason I got…But uh…I'd be more concerned with the green eyed monster brewin' over there."

Michaela followed Hank's line of sight seeing how Jake was misplacing his stress. She sighed pinching the bridge of her elegant nose, ignoring Hank's complacent yucks. Cool as ever, Michaela made a beeline to Teresa purposefully cutting between Randall and Jake. Teresa handed her a roll of gauze, and another sympathetic smile, knowing how stifling the small room had become. Meekly, Teresa tapped Jake's chest with the back of her good hand. This small action immediately softened Jake's face, as he looked from Michaela's exasperated expression, to Teresa's exhausted look of longing and turned to Hank.

"Hank!" Jake dropped his hands to his sides, impatiently.

"Alright," he leaned forward in Michaela's chair. Ruefully, he reached into the square bulge of his charcoal jacket and produced the framed picture. At this time Randall had backed away leaning close to the door of the clinic.

"What is it? " Jake swiped the pilfered frame from Hank's clutching hands.

A silence fell over the room as Jake stared down at the eerily familiar face of the man. He was no kin to him, and yet they seemed to share uncannily similar facial features. His eyes then drifted to the face of the mother, an obviously fair haired woman which didn't tug at his senses the way the man had. However, what quailed Jake the most was the striking exactness in shape as well as attitude, the small babe had with Izzy. It was more than resemblance. Izzy could be this child, exactly. Teresa leaned back against Jake's chest, craning her head, as Michaela finished wrapping her hand.

"Jake!" she gasped taking the frame from his loose grip. "My god!"

With serene curiosity, Michaela pressed her fingertips on the top edge of the simple frame, "May I?"

Teresa gratefully relinquished the frightening foretoken, into what she deemed to be Michaela's much more logical hands. Shifting her gaze from Jake's face and back to the man in the picture, Michaela's mind raced. She sorted through all rash possibilities, searching for clinical explanations, if not psychological ones.

"There's ah…something written on the back," Randall caught Teresa's eye, indicating to her that he was just as curious to know what the script said. But it was Michaela who turned the frame around reading the words aloud.

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The bills felt crisp and thick in his hand as he slipped the monetary parchment with his thumb into his other hand. Five dollars, ten dollars, twenty dollars, all of the percentage of his own take from Celina's profits. It was all adding up splendidly in Loren's mind. He may expand the upstairs of the mercantile, and give the Reverend and himself some extra room. But why stop there? He could practically feel the pile of cash growing heavy in his hand. Maybe have some workers in to install that fancy indoor plumbing, Preston was always lobbying for in his campaign to push Colorado Springs into more modern times. Why even Jake had been playing with the idea of having one built into the house, before his wife had gone out of town. He could beat them all to it, and be the first man to the top of the throne.

However, the sudden thought of Jake brought him low. It burst every bubble he had floating up around his head. For once, he'd tried to remain indifferent to the gossip circulating about his new golden goose, as Hank had so crudely put it. It wasn't effecting business; in fact, it was bringing business in. The men found her intriguing, for all the wrong reasons, but they bought from her any article she suggested. The women came to gawk, but stayed to have their dresses made in the finest styles. Whatever the smudge may be on Celina, there was no doubt she was spectacular at wielding her skill.

Yet, no matter how Loren tried to justify the sudden fortune he was reaping, he saw Jake's face. Saw the pained and haggard look that weighed down on his appearance. Even Loren had to admit that since the girls had come along, Jake's countenance had taken on a fresh and youthful vigor. Not even in his bachelor youth, had Loren seen him quite so carefree, and almost gallant. It was a change taken for granted, until this passed week, with the absence of Teresa. The side of Loren's mouth curled downward, as he hung his head from side to side in thought. Seeing his friend so miserable, had shown the stark contrast between the man from the past and the man that had grown. And these visions only served to trolley the little faces of Lucy and Izzy before him. What was he thinking asking their mother to bring Lucy here for a fitting? Their mother…Hadn't she proved herself to be quite a fine lady today in church among all the clucking tongues and watchful eyes of the town. He knew better then any, how she'd sat there knowing every unscrupulous rumor about Ms. Marrow and Jake, and yet she had smiled.

"Mr. Bray? Mr. Bray?" her voice pulled him out of his torturous thoughts. It was then, that he realized he'd been standing behind the glass counter frozen, with his hand clutched around his profits. Gruffly, Loren cleared his throat, shaking himself from his stupor. His cheeks jostled slightly with the sudden motion as he rubbed his bottom lip with the back of his finger.

"Mrs. Jenkins! What brings you lovely ladies in today?" he addressed the mother and her three teenaged daughters.

The mousey woman smiled politely, beaming with the title he'd given them, "Well, what with school startin' thought I'd better get these three in forah fittin, 'fore the rush starts again. 'Dah think Ms. Marrow can fit them all in?"

"Why sure," Loren quickly locked away his earnings into the small cash box on the counter. He shuffled around under the shelves producing Celina's schedule of appointments which was clipped to a thickly slabbed writing board. The round tip of his finger followed the lines of entries, until he found an empty row. He grinned displaying his white teeth, as he removed the short pencil which had been resting behind his ear. "Can fit you all in Monday morning. How'd that be?"

The three brunettes inhaled excitedly separating from their mother, so that they might peruse the dress patterns and catalogues around Celina's currently empty station. Mrs. Jenkins shoulders fell with the kind of tired pleasure any busy mother would have. "That'd be fine, Mr. Bray," she moved to join her ecstatic daughters. "See you Monday."

Another five, another ten, maybe another twenty dollars, which would be in his hand by tomorrow morning. He could already see Dorothy's wide eyed, disappointed expression, as he penciled in Mrs. Jenkins' daughters. An unsettling feeling cradled down in his stomach, for what should he do?


	22. Chapter 22

*****Hey guys! Just wanted to thank you for being cool about the writer's block. I finally got my muse off her smoking break and this chapter happened. I really hope you have fun reading it and I would love to hear from you, if you want. [smiling] See if you can figure out what I hid in those three names. [wink wink] Oh and thank you Linda and Snowbird. You guys rock! *****

Jake's expression soured faster than buttermilk under the molten waves of the blistering sun. He felt Teresa stiffen then slump against the wall of his chest, deep in thought as she cradled her bandaged hand in her lap. Randall could only watch the concentrated wonder that laced over every face in the room, after Michaela read the names on the back of the picture frame.

She had run her slender thumb along the hard black felt backing, feeling the difference between the smooth cool silver ink, over the rough shaved velvet-like feel of the felt board. "J.B. Harris Hemlock, Alexandra M. Hemlock, and Amie Hemlock 187..." Michaela scratched at the void were the last number of the date should be. "The last of the year has faded off."

Hank leaned back in Michaela's elbow-chair with a huff. Although the faces hadn't rung any bells other than resemblance, they had all hoped the names of these people might shed some light on the cracked psyche of Celina Marrow.

"Oh, I confess I was hoping for more," Teresa gently took the picture back from Michaela. Her voice still quivered with spurned hurt and disappointment, prompting Jake to caress her shoulders with devoted empathy. After reading the scripted names herself, she flipped back to the faces and studied them.

"Well ah…this is better than we could hope for," Randall piped up straightening slightly as every eye but Teresa's focused on him. "We can wire the names, back wherever she came from…You all know where she came from don't you?"

"Denver, I believe," Michaela busied herself by removing the shallow bowl from the examination table and mechanically cleansing her instruments, deep in thought.

"Welp, there yah have it!" Hank shot up circling the desk and reclaiming the framed photograph from Teresa. "Might wanna get this puppy back 'fore she notices." He turned on his heel about to exit the clinic when Randall stepped into his path. It wasn't meant as a menacing stall; however, Hank raised a perked brow over his hooded wintry blue eye at the man. There was something in the man Hank recognized in himself.

Randall shifted uncertainly, his gaze surpassing Hank to get to Teresa. "I'mah need those names, before you take it back."

Eyes' never leaving Randall's amused face, Hank pressed the frame into his open hands, "Here, write the names down yerself."

"That's alright, Hank," the unexpected sound of Teresa's voice sliced through him. She held her hurt hand up to her breast as she quickly scooted off the table, with Jake ambling to support her. Shooing him off, she retrieved the popular object, and sat it on Michaela's desk. Within moments, she had scribbled down all three names and the remaining numbers of the date on a piece of note scrap. Turning Teresa calmly handed Hank back his pilfered intelligence, and then gently handed Randall the note scrap. Her eye's glistened like the deep dark hue of wine through an amber glass bottle, as they connected with Randall's fluid cerulean orbs. "Now all you need do is hand Mr. Bing these names."

Randall nodded avoiding Hank's penetrating observations. His mouth curved into a sealed crescent as he folded the scrap into his black and silver scale patterned waistcoat. Not another word was spoken, as he and Hank strode out in much the same unceremonious manner they had entered, only this time on dispersed quests.

Apprehensively, Teresa turned back to Jake and Michaela. She knew they had thought her sudden jolt to assist Randall had looked odd in their eyes. But so much had been asked of her patience, of her steadfastness, of her faith and of her heart that Teresa didn't feel she could explain to them just yet. Besides, it was not her place to reveal her reasons. She could see the plumes of jealousy feathering in the expression of Jake's face. His mouth twitched as he struggled to conceal it from her; however, not only could Teresa see the viridian creature beginning to stir, she could feel it. The stress of the entire situation was forming cracks in Jake's foundation. Teresa couldn't let this happen. Not to Jake…her heart. For if, she had his heart and soul, surely he had hers locked deep inside him. "Jake-"

"Teresa," Michaela interceded. She had been observing the entire exchange, before she realized that Teresa had been alleviating Randall of some secret shame. "I think it would be best if Jake took you home for some much needed rest…You both could use it."

This alone snapped Jake from his dread, as he nodded in agreement. Let the Denver wire do its job, for now. As he looked at his wife's tired form, he cringed slightly seeing how she fought to hide the sadness in her eyes. Teresa seemed on the verge of breaking down; only, some small semblance of a tangent was holding her together. True he hadn't liked how bonded she and Randall had become; nor, did he enjoy the fact that they had some kind of shared secret between them. But there was that look staining her face that quelled the rhythm of his heartbeat. It was a look he'd seen far back in the recesses of his memories. All that long ago when she had asked him to simply trust her. He'd failed miserably, making a fool of not only himself, but also laying out Hank's private affairs for the entire town to witness. Now that same expression was pleading with him to trust her. Jake paused softening his face as he gazed at his loving wife. After the agony that had pierced through her earlier, he knew he would be a fool yet again, not to trust her now.

"Right," Jake twitched one side of his mouth up into a grin. "Thank you Dr. Mike," he added placing her charge on her desk.

Teresa and Michaela exchanged glances of understanding, before Jake affectionately lead his wife out the door.

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The mid-afternoon sun pierced through the oak saplings which canopied the uneven path to the house. The spindling trunks sprung up haphazardly along the road, like round poles, tangled in savage ashen vines which boasted fat heart shaped leaves. Running rampant on the wild wood floor, the thickets nestled in large bales of dried hawthorn brambles. Climbing up between the deep crevices of the thicker white oaks, mold, and moss pushed unchecked up the trees bare roots, like green veins threading their way up the wide gnarled trunks. The dried tawny leaves which mixed sporadically in patches, among the lush verdure of the fresh vegetation, rattled in the pleasantly chilled breeze. A breeze that seemed heaven sent to Lucy after such a hot day.

She observed this passing wild of the woods and wondered how it was, that such unbridled foliage, stopped just short of the tall grass that disproportionately lined the rustic dirt path. Lucy peered between the golden ears of what had once been her father's treasured palomino, as Cloud Dancing strolled in front of the animal holding Izzy in her cradle sling. The horses coat glistened like gold under the bright sunlight, setting off the striking corona of its silken mane. The well traveled story of Sunny, as she had known it, was that Mr. Lawson had loosely acquired him from a customer who couldn't pay his boarding fee. An event her father had personally witnessed from his perch beneath the saloon's porch. And after feeding Sunny roasted peanuts from his hand, as Mr. Lawson had put it, "That traitor of ah horse followed that ratfink to the damn barbershop, tah damn Grace's Café, and down the damn road outta mah life for good!" As the tale had passed from Mr. Lawson's begrudging lips to her father's smirking complacent mouth, it was revealed that Sunny was given as a gift to her Grandfather a year after she was born.

"In commemoration of your surprisin' delivery," Jake had smiled warmly at the memory. "He changed his name tah…WHAT Is it?" Jake had looked questioningly to Cloud Dancing who was at that time sitting in his usual stead on the white stairs of the terrace.

"Sun that Walk's on Earth," Cloud Dancing replied without looking up from his flute carving.

"An' the rest is history," her father nodded leaning back in his chair to watch that same creature mulling about in the wide pasture on the side of the house.

Like the ever fluctuating weather, Lucy's mind traveled from the past to the present. She had thought the moment her mother stepped across the threshold of their home everything would right itself. Ms. Marrow would move on to other things, and leave her parents to the marital bliss they had once been in. However, the slap as seen by some lucky passersby through the window had spread faster than it had taken Katie to deliver her mother's request to Cloud Dancing at the café. Things were not settling down, and as the wind eddies about lifting dirt to the sky, every unmentionable was being mentioned.

"Grandpaw?" her voice was timid, causing Cloud Dancing to turn his raven winged head back in her direction. "Would you tell me about Snowbird again?" She was hopeful the subject would derail her aching thoughts. Besides, she reveled in hearing stories from before she had been born. Yet, none was so precious as when he told her about Snowbird. Beauty bloomed from his mouth when he spoke of her. Light seemed to emanate within his brightly growing eyes. Although, Cloud Dancing's heart was firmly mended to Dorothy's, it was evident that he was still vastly enamored of Snowbird.

"And what shall I tell you, young one, that you do not already know of her?" he teased.

"What did she look like?" Lucy leaned forward holding tight to Sun that Walks on Earth's round flat saddle horn.

"You know what she looked like," he baited her as he shifted Izzy's sleeping body closer to his ribs. Just beyond the roofs of the wooded thickets, he could just make out the peak of the house, still far enough in the distance.

"Please!" Lucy begged combing her fingers through the smooth straight strands of Sun that Walks on Earth's mane. The horse swayed his mighty head clearly enjoying the gentle attentions.

"Her hair was as black as the wings of a raven and shone with the blue light of the stars in the night sky," Cloud Dancing pictured her in his minds eye. "Her skin was honeyed like walnut shells and when she laughed her eyes crested like two bows stretching towards the skies."

"What did her laugh sound like?" Lucy pressed already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from his mouth.

Cloud Dancing chuckled digging into the folds of his heart where these venerable memories were kept. "I remember how she smiled so wide her cheeks dimpled here and here," he pressed his finger into the crescents beside the corners of his smiling mouth. "It was then that she laughed like water trickling down from the stream, like the bubbling plunge of a waterfall." Cloud Dancing turned to look back at Lucy, as she sat dreaming up the woman that might have been the only grandmother she'd ever know. He recalled how Teresa often referred to Jake as her heart. "She was my heart," he pressed his hand to his chest to show Lucy. "Now she is in my heart."

Lucy sat up straight and pressed her own little hand to her chest as Cloud Dancing had, "You are my heart Grandpaw."

He paused on the path causing the sunbeam of a horse to halt. His warm dark chocolate eyes looked from the child looking down at him as if he were the most precious thing in the world, to the sleeping babe cradled in her sling. They were not of his blood, but they were of his spirit, like Sully, like Michaela and Katie. A bond of spirit forged by love. "You are my heart as well."

These last few steps brought them onto the short path which lead to the cobbled walk up to the house. Cloud Dancing dug into the leather satchel which clung by his hip, until he found the iron skeleton key Jake had given him all those years ago. He had brought his granddaughters home.

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Together they jostled about on the high bench as the wagon drove along the rough dirt road. As they entered the alcove of trees which lined the rustic path, the uncharacteristic silence between them grew thick. The early evening sun had dispatched itself behind the roofs of the trees, causing the sky to erupt in a flurry of orange cloud scuttles. Oncoming hazes of purple and cobalt swirls, wafted closer and closer overhead, before the twilight of night could take over. Jake gulped down hard biting back the emotions he was feeling. Just the thought of her sitting so far from him, hurting the way he knew she was, was near to destroying him. Jake would give anything to simply go back and leave the damnable wagon in the meadow. Anything to have followed his family to Grace's. Anything to have saved Teresa of those tears and that bandaged hand.

Jake cleared his throat as he raked his gloved hand through the thick tufts of corn silk hair on his bare head. Surreptitiously, he cast glances her way, unable to read the dull expression on her lovely face. Teresa's bandaged hand was cupped within the other, resting in the pillow of her skirts. The thick curtain of her lashes hooded the dark jasper colored amber of her eyes, cloaking her thoughts from him. Short loose strands of sable had freed themselves in the breeze casting unmolested across her face. If only she would speak to him. Just one word, even if it was in anger, he didn't care. He just wanted to hear the sound of her voice.

It was then that her head tilted upward as though she had heard him. Teresa's head turned seeming to examine him from head to toe. Jake could feel her scrutinizing him, weighing him against some unforeseen counterbalance in her head. He shifted his sight between her and the road, finding that she continued to observe him unflinchingly. Then suddenly without preamble, without warning or sound, she pressed close to him. Her arm slid up between his side and his arm, nestling close to his body. Whatever battle that had waged in her had won out in his favor he supposed. Perhaps this was a moment to be had without words. He took up her hand and brushed his lips against the delicate skin on the back. There was still something wrong and she was desperately trying to bridge the gap in order to cast it from her mind. Reaching the path before the house, Jake sighed seeing how the light was dimming around the property. However, a warm yellow glow seeped from the windows showing life within the house. The sounds of muffled laughter permeated the walls and stroked at their ears as the two smiled wearily.

Teresa didn't wait for Jake to help her down. In a daze, she hopped from the wagon wheel to the cobbled path, and headed straight for the garden. Jake called after her asking if she needed any help.

"If I may manage on my own!" she snapped at him as she paced away.

In one fluid motion, Jake brought himself down beside the wagon's wheel. Beginning the arduous task of unhitching the horse from the wagon's stall, he suddenly found he had help.

"Is it true, you have been caught being unfaithful?" Cloud Dancing asked unlashing the horses flank from his side. Together they lifted the stall, freeing the horse.

"No!" Jake walked the horse into the neighboring meadow where Sun that Walk's on Earth was already grazing behind the fence. Agonizing word after agonizing word he explained the entire fiasco to Cloud Dancing. "I know she's hurt but…" he found he couldn't bring himself to finish.

"It is not you she is angry with," Cloud Dancing watched her walking back and forth along the row where the calendula flowers should be. Testily, she bent over the beds, searching among the dried leaves finding only the shriveled parchment husked heads of what once were thriving golden yellow marigolds. The sudden heat wave had destroyed the calendula; she needed to brew her tea. The beds had died, leaving yellowing patches of brittle stems and falling sallow leaves.

Knees buckling, she let herself fall into the row, hiding her face in her hands. The events of the day cascaded over her, beating her down into the soil. It was all too much to bear for the moment and she allowed her tears to flow freely down her face. Teresa's whole body racked with anguished sobs, ringing her out of the pain. Her sorrow quickly morphed into abject anger as she thrashed at the dead brambles, ignoring the throbbing in her hand. Fingers clawing with handfuls of the brittle twigs and thin spindling roots, she tore the beds from the powdered earth, ripping and shredding what appeared to her as crimson hair. The crimson hair of a certain seamstress. Teresa was tired. Tired of being so prim, tired of turning the other cheek and having to weather the storm. She'd been tossed around, insulted, and belittled by that unscrupulous woman. Her children had been wronged, her husband…her husband…

Strong arms wrapped around her shoulders preventing her fit from further harming her. Teresa's hands stung and the skin of her palms and fingers felt wet as she stayed them before her lap. Briefly, she fought against him, not wanting his comfort, and not wanting to comfort him. She was angry. Why couldn't they just let her be angry? But Jake wasn't asking her to comfort him. He had simply knelt down in the dirt at her side, and wrapped his arms around her.

"Just cry," was all he said as he gathered her against the steady wall of his chest. Finally, she turned tucking herself into him, and erupting all the hurt and anguish inside her. Everything she had been holding in, flowed up to the surface, and fell into Jake's waiting arms. The cruelty of her family, her aunt's death, Celina's unbridled attempts to usurp her place with Jake, the dreadful manipulation of her children, and the shameful way she had retaliated with physical assault, all spilled out, as Jake rocked her back and forth in his embrace. The safest place, Teresa had ever known, was in his embrace.


	23. Chapter 23

She hadn't planned to fall in love with him. Yet, weren't they much thrown together by the hands of fate? Celina recalled the first time they had locked eyes with one another. His eyes were like the changing weather of the sky. They stormed like gray thunderous clouds, murky and strong as steel. Then they cooled as the storm passed revealing clear bright blue skies that ever were shifting back to the darkest lapis hues of a deep pond. As intoxicating as those seductive orbs, it was his countenance more than anything that brought her to heel. How his movements seemed to strut as he strolled down the mass steps of the train depot, towards her. He had such long artistic like fingers, which reached up and artfully tilted the round derby from his head, revealing the autumn tint of his hair. With the coolest of attitudes, Harris tilted his head in greeting.

Denver city loomed high above them and yet disappeared taking the multitudes of citizens with it, as Harris introduced himself. "Harris Hemlock, Miss?"

"Marrow. Celina Marrow," her breath was caught in the confines of her slim throat. The climbing spires and framed tower of Union Depot stretched behind him casting a shadow over the sprawling red brick buildings. The slight paved sidewalks were mulling with a sundry of the populace. Fine Denver socialites, stretched their brightly colored plumage, hiding their delicate ivory faces from the sun, beneath the silk lace awnings of their parasols. Working class women, dressed in muted grays and browns, dashing down towards the waiting horsecars, already seating dapper gentlemen, waiting to be bused down town into the Five Points for work. The dusty streets echoed with the clopping chomps of horses hooves, pulling carriages, and workaday loaded wagons up and down the avenue. Ruckus and deafening was the sound of the city streets, until Celina set sights on Harris Hemlock.

"If you'll pardon my brashness, you look a bit lost," half his mouth curled up into a crooked smile revealing just a hint of his white teeth.

Indeed, she was. She'd never been this deep into the city before, being somewhat of an outskirts girl. Her dressmaking situation, working under a well known tailor, started on the following day just up the avenue. As she was taking her employers advice and rather adventurously studying her bearings of the city, Celina had stopped before the open plaza before the train depot. Three burgundy and gold trimmed horsecars lined the dustbowl of a street, waiting to fill its trolley designed expanse with fare. Having never set foot in such a conveyance, Celina had paused working up the nerve to join the other's boarding without a second thought.

"I'm not used to…well…being so," she'd searched her mind trying to find the proper words to explain how new she was to city dwelling.

"Being a City Slicker?" he'd chuckled offering his arm. "What you need is an escort!"

There was hesitation. She didn't know this man. Hadn't she been warned time and again that sometimes the most villainous terrors wore the masks of beauty? But there were so many people bustling around, and she was still so very close to the tailors shop down the way, that he seemed like an innocent venture. And it had been such a marvelous venture, under his god sent protection, and dashing charm. Harris rode along side her in the horsecar, down as far as the brownstone tenant buildings turned into middleclass restaurants and galleries. They strolled down the narrow cement sidewalks, enjoying the constant flow of conversation and witty repartee on Harris' part.

She learned everything she could ever want to know from him in mere hours compared to months of courting. Harris Hemlock was an artist working as a dentist. He owned a shop located just before the Five Points, from which he also displayed his art. A first class mimic, Harris could duplicate any work of art for which even the most expert eye could not discern the difference. It was a handsomely paid side business, with clients mainly from the medical school seeking his skilled hands for massively detailed anatomy drawings.

"So you can see why I just had to approach you, Ms. Marrow," Harris smiled roguishly. "Your face is beauty incarnate, to my hands. I realize the forwardness of what I'm about to ask of you…but you must give me a chance to capture you on paper."

Surely, this must be a line; however, as she peered into those opalescent steel blue eyes, Celina felt her heart yearn. She had come to the sprawling depths of Denver to find work, and found love…

Love? Was it love? Now as Celina stared at her disheveled reflection in the askew mirror atop the bureau, she sighed. Her cheek was beginning to turn purple and swell, rounding her usually slender face. The flesh around her eye socket quaked as though it had been smashed with a brick. Slowly, her spindly tapered white fingers slid up into the crimson satin of her hair, causing her to wince painfully. Celina supposed it could have been worse had the glass shattered. She could easily hide a lump under her plaited crown, but deep ruddy gashes were another thing.

Deep down Celina knew she should set the room to right, though she ignored the disarray about her. All that could occupy her mind was Harris. Brow furrowing, her mind grasped at the loose tendrils of present thought and memory, searching for solid ground. Jake. Harris? Jake? One man in the same? Two men separately? Squinting into the mirror as the mid afternoon sun pierced orange and bright through the side window, Celina twitched. The light had vanished with a passing shadow, causing her to spin around attempting to catch it. Yet, the window remained sunny and undisturbed, uselessly muted by the shear white muslin drapes and lace panels.

Then it sounded. Not in her mind but true and solid giving her a start. She paused collecting herself before the next round of heavy knocking rattled the thin door in its frame.

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The heat was stifling, floating down in thick waves over Hank's head. His heavy ruffled hair stuck moistly to his face and neck as he trudged his way to the boarding house. _Put frame back where yah got it, _was as far as his plan reached. He hadn't yet accounted for Celina's presence in the room, let alone how he'd get passed what would now surely be a locked door. With this in mind, Hank stalled just before his weather worn boot could tap its heel on the graying boards of the porch. What would he say to her? He couldn't just barge his way in, she'd know immediately that what was afoot was him. Jostling backwards, his long legs shuffled sideways, before he skirted the squat building. Hank pressed his perspiring back against the warm wall of the boarding house, feeling the thin fabric of his shirt cling to him like a second skin. He never longed so much for the dank cavernous dark of the smoke hazed saloon. Free from the baking sun, as he'd press the skin of his forehead to the slick glass of a whiskey bottle. He could practically taste the bitter tang of that tawny liquid, washing down his rough tongue, scratching its fluid way down his throat. Maybe his high tolerance wouldn't help him to forget these events, but it certainly would sooth him for the night.

Hank's shoulder nudged the molding of the width long window. He'd take his chances if she saw him snooping around outside. Very slowly so as not to draw attention, Hank veered his head around, peering in through the ivory lace panels. Although his view was veiled, he could just make out the muddled chaos of the room. Celina had practically turned the room upside down, in her obvious search for the framed photograph. _Cat's outta thah bag. _Her sudden movement at the mirror on the wall opposite the window had Hank nearly dodging into the dirt. Holding true, he continued his barmy espionage, catching the oddity with which Celina stared into her reflection. Her eyes seemed to be darting to and fro with the rapid movement of a speed-reader. She seemed to be trying to grasp at a dozen different things at once all within the confines of her mind.

Taking a step back, no longer caring whether she saw him or not, Hank crossed the window. His mind made up he strode back around the boarding house and forced his way in. The time for thinking was over, and the time for rushing in guns hot, and eyes blazing was now! The small parlor of the house was cool and fresh, caressing his hot face like feathers on the breeze. How he longed to savor it, yet the task at hand growled, fueling his perseverance, to get into that room. Hank's balled up fist struck hard at the thin door, rattling it in its frame. Moments passed until he heard the shuffled movement of her cautious steps. He took advantage of the meek manner with which Celina edged the door open, pushing his way in, sending her sprawling towards her disheveled bed.

"Lady," Hank's voice was melodiously sharp. "I warned yah didn't I? Didn't I warn yah tah stay away from Jake and Teresa?"

He towered over her as she kicked her way further up on the bed. But Hank didn't stop in his siege quite yet. His knee steadied on the mattress next to her own knee, climbing over her as she attempted to shove herself away from him. Celina wasn't frightened, and she wasn't startled in the least. She had the air of a cornered predator, calculating its next move, as Hank hovered over her body on the bed. Celina struck out batting him about the head, her tiny fists bouncing off his solid skull, without damage. In a flash, he'd taken hold of her wrists and had pinned them down by her head. She seethed arching her back nearly touching his stomach with her own, as she wriggled for freedom. Hank's grip was like an iron vise; offering not an inch of give as he brought his face so close to hers he could see his reflection in those murky emerald eyes of hers.

"Well?" she blasted him. "What now…**Mr**. Lawson? Are you going to beat me? Kill me? What are you going to do that won't have you thrown into jail, before they wrap a rope around your neck?"

"Feisty! Ain't yah," if he hadn't despised her so much, he might have liked her. "Yah'ain't scared. I can see it in your eyes that yah ain't scared. So's I'm askin' you. What's it gonna take tah have yah outta here for good?"

"I'm not leaving **Mr. **Lawson. I'm haven't done anything wrong. Haven't broken any laws," Celina unflinchingly stared into the glacier blue violence of his eyes. "I'm maintaining steady employment in this town like any worthy citizen. In fact, I'm turning quite a pretty penny for our esteemed Mr. Bray. Or has _**Mrs. Slicker **_yet to teach you how to count higher than the fingers on your hands!"

He could strike her. Strike her in the same place Teresa had and no one would be the wiser. Not a soul on the council would believe this Twist after the manipulative strings she'd pulled. It didn't happen often, but now peering into the sizzling hatred foaming in those dark ocean green waters that were her eyes, Hank was sure that he was better than she was. He'd done some low down dirty things in his life, but this one was rancid down to her core. Quick study as he was at reading the dregs in his saloon, Hank knew she hadn't started out this way. But somewhere along the road of her life, this one had cracked hard, and was beyond repair.

In one fluid motion, Hank snatched her up by the neck, throwing her out from under him, as he simultaneously ripped the frame from his inner lapel and flung it over the other side of the bed. He was fast about it, insuring Celina was never the wiser. Dragging himself from the bed, he eyed her as she sat on the cluttered floor choking and rubbing at her neck.

"We'll just see what Loren's got tah say 'bout all this now," Hank strutted nonchalantly over the threshold of the open door. He paused momentarily looking back at her with a sneer. "Better clean this place up," he tossed at her before smoothly exiting.


	24. Chapter 24

*****Hey guys! I just wanted to thank Linda and Snowbird for helping me out with the tub/washroom thing. You Sully-Saved my day (and that's the best kind of saving!), and then cracked me up. Another steamy WARNING.*****

He felt himself a monster, as he held her sobbing body in his tight embrace. Although, Teresa was in tremendous pain, Jake couldn't help but relish how good it felt to hold her in his arms. To feel her pressing warmly, intimately, into him, like no other woman ever could. Feeling her hot salty tears soaking into this shirt, Jake squeezed her closer, inhaling the sweetly alluring floral essence of her hair. They were braided as one, and he knew words could only hold as much weight as a feather on the wind, compared to the comfort his body was giving her. Jake slid his hand up around the back of her slender neck, allowing his thumb to gently stroke the delicate skin underneath her ear.

The man made no more noise in his approach than a soft breeze would stringing through the tall grass in the meadow.

"I will take care of the young ones, tonight," Cloud Dancing spoke with finality and resolve. In truth, he had foreseen this episode, had already fed them dinner, and was preparing them for a makeshift overnighter, when Jake and Teresa arrived. "I have already promised them a night of storytelling in the nursery…"

Jake's eyes flickered from stressful worry to profound appreciativeness. It set him at ease knowing that his children would be watched over under Cloud Dancing's nurturing wing. Nodding his agreement, Jake watched as that blessed man calmly turned and made his way up and into the house.

Waiting until he could see the soft yellow light of the oil lamps casting their glow in Izzy's nursery window, Jake adjusted Teresa in his arms. Her jarring sobs had diminished into weeping murmurs that lightly breathed against his neck. Lifting her so that they stood Jake swiftly swept Teresa up into his arms, and carried her into the house. Gently, he set her down into the crook of the sofa, before kneeling down before her. His large white hand cupped her face as his thumb gingerly wiped the tears from under her eye and lightly nudged her chin up. Though her lips were trembling, the corners of her mouth curled into a smile, as she looked down at him through tear stained eyes. His face had softened, the slant of his eyes rounded showing a calm dark cobalt color, as his lips pressed into a crooked smile. Somehow, their hands had found each other, with the fingers of her bandaged hand entwining clumsily.

"I'm gonna take of yah, alright," Jake was forcing his voice to sound light. "Jus'…jus' wait here."

Jake waited for her to nod before pressing her hand to his lips. The shadows of his past crept up on him, casting his own words forth. _You are my concern._ They wrapped around him as he hurried down the narrow hall that led out towards the kitchen and dining room. _…but I must manage this on my own… _Teresa's words fought against him. No matter how Jake attempted to spoil her, she just had to handle things herself, and it had amazed him that she was allowing him this much. Well not this night, Jake was resolute, and not this situation!

xXx

Framing each window were deep mahogany stained moldings which set off the muted stormy blue hue of the walls of the kitchen and dining room. These two rooms sat at opposite ends at the back of the house. Jake walked down between the two open spaces, opening the large oak double doors at the center of the back wall. He propped each solid door along its own adjacent wall, before he entered the small washing room. To the right of him was what Sully and now Jake considered an indoor plumbing situation of which had caused quite a ruckus to install.

It had taken Jake, Sully, Hank, Matthew, and a mostly supervising Loren to dig out the drainage ditch. Although it had been a delightfully cool spring day, the arduous labor of digging and hauling had taken its toll on the men. Jake and Hank had already perspired through the thin gray fabric of their long john tops. The suspenders which were holding up their dark slacks dug irritatingly between their shoulder blades impeding their good humor. And the only shade afforded them came from the brims of their hats which were periodically drenched in the squat barrel of water that sat off to the side. Matthew's wintergreen sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows, as his fair skin scorched red under the sun. He rolled the wheel barrel as fast as Hank and Jake could shovel out dry mound after dry mound of dirt.

But it was Sully who'd had his hands full, putting his craftsman's skills to work building the actual not so out, outhouse. Unlike the other's he seemed built to be out in the sun. His bronze skin glowed with the radiant glimmer of his sweat. Now and then Sully reached up his hands to tighten the blue bandana which he had tied around his head like a band. Sully's arms worked free and bare as he hammered board after board forming the walls that would go around the seat.

"Ah Yah gotta dig out the bottom first, 'fore yah widen the sides!" Loren tugged at the wilting collar of his dry shirt. He stood close to the edge of the trench delegating opinions to Hank and Jake. "Or the whole things just gonna cave in on yah!"

The two well dusted men exchanged irately irritated glances. "Keep yappin' old man and I'll knock yah down here tah do some actual work!" Hank growled through his grinning teeth, as he and Jake nodded mischievously to one another.

"Aw, yah know I can't put a lot of weight on my bad leg," he rubbed at his thigh, suddenly feeling the need to nurse it.

"Right," Jake rolled his eyes before using his heavy boot as weight to plunge his spade deeper into the tough soil. Working in tandem, they laughed as they hoisted their scoops of dirt up in Loren's direction dusting him from head to toe. Sputtering and coughing he fell back landing in Matthew's wheel barrel.

"Will you quit messin' around!" Matthew chastised Loren helping him out of the barrels bed and onto his feet. "Never seen a man work so hard not tah work."

"That's it…I needa break," Hank threw his shovel into the shallow wall next to Jake like a spear. Springing nimbly, he used the protruding handle as a step out of the trench. "I'll jus' see what yah little missus s'got in the kitchen," he'd winked.

What had happen next had been pure speculation on Jake's part, as he had merely shrugged at the suggestion of stopping and continued in his work. He had supposed Sully had loosely boarded up the seat, planning to secure everything once it was inside the small washroom. It was probably at that exact moment Hank had taken advantage of the fact that Sully had wandered inside the house to visit with Dr. Mike and a then very pregnant Teresa, who were sitting at the kitchen table. To this day Hank refused to divulge exactly how he'd rigged the damned thing, but the events were as follows.

Several minutes had passed and Jake struck the metal spade into the crumbling clay of the loam tinted earth. The small rocks clinked and clattered with each toss, as Jake worked out his own rhythm. All the while Loren's now quiet shadow cast over Jake blocking out the sun.

"Hey Jake!" Hank had called down to him from somewhere close to the house. "Sully says you're open for business. You can uh…try er' out for we bring er' inside."

Jake nudged one corner of his mouth back, thinking it odd to try out such an accommodation. However, it had been such a taxing day. Jake's body was aching from muscle to bone, and he hadn't seen his wife practically all day long. He knew she was only in the house, but he'd missed her. Missed seeing her dusky waves fall brilliantly over her shoulders. Missed the swell of her belly, where what he'd thought at the time was his son. Using Hank's makeshift handle step, Jake hoisted himself from the trench, finding that Loren had mysteriously disappeared along with Matthew. Strutting over to the fat barrel of water by the house, Jake washed the charcoal toned dirt from his arms, face, and neck.

The sun was finally giving way to the early evening, sending an intoxicatingly cool breeze to chill the air. Jake inhaled the its crisp clean comfort, catching hints of jasmine and hawthorn on the lightly wafting wind. His eyes traveled up and down the finished outhouse. Sturdy in appearance, Jake took a few steps forward inspecting the tightly fitted seams of Sully's immaculate work. The man truly was gifted, Jake had thought, taking notice of the fact that not a single nail head was visible. It was then that he heard it. Something moved from within, startling Jake as he back away nearly crashing into Sully and Matthew.

"I…I think there's something in there," Jake pointed unsure what to do.

Sully shrugged nonchalantly with a crooked grin, "It's probably just the loose boards rattlin'."

"Loose bor-," but Jake didn't have a chance to finish as he heard Hank give out a loud whoop for joy right before a loud yet muffled rattle occurred. As if on cue, the walls which hadn't been nailed down shook and fell away, with a booming crash revealing the finished seat and bare bottomed occupant, Loren Bray.

Astounded, Loren crossed his legs, meshing his lips up under his nose in boiling anger. His face glowed hotter than a boiled lobster clear up to his snowy hairline. Hank rolled out from around the hobble his arms wrapped around his flanks laughing so hard sound barely escaped his lips, as he fell to the ground in front of Jake. Standing akimbo Jake fought his mouth painfully attempting not to laugh, while Matthew smiled though trying to hide his amusement at such childish behavior.

"Mr. Bray!" Teresa's voice drew everyone's attention, as Michaela instinctually flung her hand up to cover Teresa's eyes.

"I can't believe you are all acting like children!" Michaela scolded them unwilling to cast a glance in Loren's blushing direction. She led Teresa away from the door, stifling a grin while attempting to appear displeased.

"YOU said it was finished!" Loren fumed yanking his pants up with one hand and shaking his fist at Hank.

"I…was…supposed'tah…get Jake!" Hank spewed between mounting fits of laughter.

Sully's glowing blue orbs hooded under his worried eyes, "Yah didn't have a chance tah go…did yah?" His lips pursed, hoping he wasn't going to have to build another seat.

xXx

The modest washroom joined the back of the house through the wide solid oak double doors. To the left of the now secure "inhouse", was the wide high backed copper bathing tub. For added privacy, Jake had incorporated a thick round brass pole which affixed to either side of the wall. From there he'd hung a heavy patterned canary privacy curtain, much like the one from the barbershop. It divided the room, in such a fashion, as one may bath yet remain hidden from "inhouse" users.

Placing a filled massively stout tarnished copper kettle onto the fired up stove, he took up a shiny tin bucket from it's place under the sink. Jake busied himself transferring bucket after bucket of water from the red water pump at the sink to the copper tub. He continued in this fashion until the kettle released a noiseless cloud of steam from it's open spout, prompting him to heat the chilled bath water. Leaving the stove burning, that it might warm the air, he paced back into the washroom. Jake had been so preoccupied making things nice for Teresa that he hadn't noticed her watching him from the archway of the hall.

She found she couldn't take her eyes off his hands as they poured fragrant powdered soap into the now steaming water. His fingers dipped within the placid glass like surface stirring and agitating the water into suds. It was then that he caught her, and their eyes locked. He could see how she'd been studying him again, as she had been on the way home in the wagon. Desperately, Jake wanted to know what she was thinking, what she was piecing together in that lovely head of hers. However, she wasn't ready to tell him, and he knew that. Jake fought his curiosity, allowing one side of his mouth to curl up into an inviting smile. Slowly, Teresa stepped cautiously closer to him, almost as though she were expecting something fowl to slither forth and taint this touching scene.

There was something so abstract about watching Jake perform these tasks. It wasn't much different from what he did at the barbershop for his customers, and yet there was something more in the delicate care he was affording her space. Something in the way, he laid out a white linen towel over the brass ladder rack against the wall. Something in the way, he took her by the hand and ushered her behind the canary curtain which he had fluently drawn around them.

Attempting to reach up and undress herself, Jake stayed her hands against the middle of his chest. Even through her bandaged palm, she could feel his heart beating in a churning rhythm. "No," it was just one word and yet the simple sound coupled with the intense desire burning in his eyes, set her own heart to leaping up into her throat.

"Jake. I may take car-" she began but seeing how his brow steeped with pain, she relented.

Releasing her hands, Jake moved to stand close behind her. His steady fingers made quick work of releasing the hooked seam which held the back of her dress closed. Teresa felt the muscles around her ribs tighten as Jake slipped the brocade sleeves down passed her now bare arms. His hands slipped down her cinched waist between the skirts of the dress and her thin lace chemisette, plunging the outer article down to the ground. She could feel his warm breath lightly caressing the skin at her neck as he halted gripping her waist before he went on. Jake stood before her once more. He looked down the length of his chest, swallowing hard as he peered into her dark amber eyes. They sparkled with wonder, still trying to mask the extreme heartbreak she was feeling. God how he wanted to kiss her. How he want to feel her warm silken lips against his, to taste her, to savor her. Instead, he controlled himself with a gruff grunt.

Kneeling down at her feet, he began unlacing her ankle high boots; however, at the sensation of her slender hands resting demurely on the top of his shoulders he felt his eyes glaze over. As Teresa leaned on him for support in order to step out of her boots, Jake's entire body tensed. Fighting against himself once one, Jake dared to look up at her. Teresa's stomach rose and fell with her own hard breathing as she watched him. It took everything in Jake not to pull Teresa down underneath him. Only, this wasn't about pleasure. It wasn't about reclaiming her body with his. More than anything Jake wanted to show her that it was her soul he wanted. Her love and her trust were more valuable to him than his desire. Jake wanted to show Teresa that he could and would take care of her in every sense, and without fail.

"I think," she gulped. "I may manage the rest."

Jake relented, releasing Teresa from his attentions so that she could remove her undergarments and slip into the blessedly warm tub. She reclined slowly, her hands gripping the tubs smoothly lipped edges. The water enveloped her body lapping around her shoulders, leaving white opalescent frothing bubbles against her lightly tinted skin. Before the thought even entered her mind, Jake was up on his feet and delicately removing every silver pin within her hair. He took great pleasure in removing the silver chained basket which sent wave after satin wave of ebony silk down around her. The heavy bottom tresses immersed themselves beneath the waters depths, clinging to her skin like slippery black vines. Teresa leaned her head back dipping what was left of her hair into the fragrant water. It smelled of rosemary and jasmine which set her senses into a gentle calm. Closing her eyes, she nibbled slightly on her bottom lip before looking up at Jake.

"We were not so very kind…in the beginning," she threw it out there. Wet noodles of hair curled about her softened face as she leaned closer to the side of the tub.

Jake's shoulders fell as he came to sit up against this same side on the floor. He brought his knee up so that he might rest his outstretched arm. Lips pursing into a line, he let her words sink in, "Teresa. What'er you sayin'?"

"I had…a…a…uh," she struggled trying to remember the way the saying went. Jake turned his head watching her pat her shoulder with a confused expression on her face. The slightly comical gesture tugged the corners of his mouth up before he realigned with his outstretched arm. He adored her all the more, when she couldn't recall common idioms; though, she continued to try.

"Ah chip on your shoulder," he chuckled softly feeling the wet driblets of water, she playfully sprayed him with, dance on his head.

"Yes, a _chip_ on my shoulder…And you-"

"I know what I was!" he cut her off. Jake's cheer died as fast as a storm could dominate a clear sunny day. He loathed the memory of it. It shamed and tortured him every time those past deeds slithered up to the surface like a repugnant uncivilized deformed creature. A creature that spewed ignorance, acted out of fear, and wrought only loneliness and anger. How Jake despised that creature only to find that no matter how he tried to dispel it, it reared its ugly form on his soul like a scar. A rotten scar to remind him, what could have been, and how blessed he'd become. His extended hand swiveled in the air so that the palm faced the ceiling. "I uh didn't mean tah snap at yah."

He heard the water slosh and splash as Teresa shifted, laying one arm along the edge next to Jake's head. Resting her chin thusly, she tilted her head in his direction.

"I know you do not like to think about it," she paused as his closest hand reach up over his shoulder. Jake's fingers entwined with hers along the tubs lip, pinching and caressing each digit. "I do not like it much myself. But when I see Lucy with Cloud Dancing… and Izzy, so at home in his arms I feel a shame for the past. And it hurts to remember…" she bit nervously on her lip. "Sometimes I think I deserve to feel this way as punishment for how I was. But it makes it a little less, to know that they will know to show only kindness and love. They will have it better."

"Is that what you've been thinkin' about all this time?" Jake's face soured. She was cutting deep, and he found little relief knowing she tortured herself as much as he did. Somehow, it sliced into his heart worse, knowing she felt she deserved it.

"My old self fights with my new self," Teresa sighed abruptly, readying herself for this next part. "I want to demand the council make her leave town. I want you to use your standing to do it…and that is wrong. And I hate myself that I would ask that of you."

"What about your other side?" _If it was only that easy, _he thought.

"I do not know," she laughed at herself causing Jake to swivel about to look at her. "I-I ask myself. How would Michaela handle such a thing?"

Jake raised his eyebrows completely shocked. He turned completely on his knees now, taking her misted face in his hands. What could they do? Knowing how Dorothy had been chastising Loren for days now without making a dent, made him uneasy. No one was closer to Loren than Dorothy was, and if she couldn't convince him, what hope did he have. From up above them a muted gleeful chortle permeated the ceiling followed by the rhythmic hum of Cloud Dancing's voice. Jake smiled exhaling roughly with the knowledge that his offspring were with their grandfather.

With his thoughts so distracted, Jake was utterly taken off guard by her gentle hand which nudged his face in her direction. Teresa had risen partially from the water her thick waves glistened wetly, lacing over her shoulders concealing her breasts. Her arms slid up his own, wrapping around his neck pulling him into her nymph like embrace. Eyes warm and dark as oak bark crackling in a fire, Teresa licked her lips, "I have been watching you…because I can see the ache in your eyes. And I can see that it is pain for me because I have pain. I have never known such love, until you. My heart, how I love you."

Jake's heart raced, at the sound of these words. It was as though they were being spoken for the first time all over again. His hands slid down grabbing hold of her wet shoulders nearly slipping off with all the foaming suds of the soap. But there was no need as Teresa pulled him down closer to her and pressed her lips to his. This was love! This was _**true **_love happening to him. Jake knew what her words meant and although Teresa had never spoken of her first husband to him, he'd understood the weight of this. He not only had her heart, but he had her soul. Releasing him from her delicately soul shattering kiss, she rested her forehead against his.

"I love you," she whispered. "I love you…I love you."


	25. Just To Catch You Up

_I just thought I'd do a little catch you up summary, for just in case. Ok so one morning Lucy wakes Jake up where he's been sleeping in the hall, remember Teresa's not back yet. He discovers lip rouge smeared on his chest. Celina has been in the house. Meanwhile Hank and Dorothy are at the mercantile trying to talk sense into Loren, but Celina is helping him rake in quite a roll of dough. (He's got total $$ in his eyes!) So Cloud Dancing advises Jake to be up front and honest with Teresa when she gets back (in that oh so Cloud Dancing way we know and love). And he tells him not to lock his door that night. And Jake actually does it! (We've come a long way Baby!) So on this night he's having a Celina nightmare (cuz who wouldn't with the Glenn Close bunny lady sneaking around) and he mistakes Teresa who's come home early, for Celina. And he roughs her up a little. In the crazy Randall rushes in thinking the worst but thankfully Teresa assuages the situation. But Jake (bless his heart) collapses from exhaustion._

_(Wasn't this a good excuse to bring our lovely lady doctor in?) Randall at Teresa's pleading brings Dr. Mike who determines Jake needs rest and calm, cause he's been running himself ragged. It is at this time that Teresa is filled in on the "One that didn't quite Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" and the goings on. I also reveal a bit of time when Randall went to get Dr. Mike, where Teresa goes up to see the girls. While she's in the nursery, Celina who's been up there this whole time (Eek!) is hiding behind the door! But when Teresa leaves Ms. NutGoCrackers (Celina) is like talking to Izzy like she belongs to her! Yikers!_

_So Randall goes into town and he meets Robert E. and together they witness CuckookookaChew (Celina) sneaking into the boarding house at dawn. So she goes in talking to herself, saying Jake is just like Harris (we don't know who he is yet) and how Harris wouldn't leave his wife, but Jake will for her. _

_Sunday morning Jake gets all gussied up and he and the reunited family enjoy some getting ready for church time. Teresa doesn't believe Jake is fully well, so she convinces him to skip Denver Mass for church in town. (they alternate churches every week. Compromise!) Oh and all this time rumors have been swirling about the seamstress and the barber around town. So naturally as everyone in convening around the church Celina is being ignored by the towns women and a sassy unflinching Grace (I'll hold her down for you Grace!) So when Jake and Teresa finally get there with the girls…Awkward! They even have to sit in front of Celina and Loren is acting like he doesn't have a clue what's going on. So while this kerfuffle is going down, Randall is taking advantage of the town being in church. This is where he and Hank join forces and poke around Celina's boarding room. Hank shows Randall a photograph of a family. The father and daughter look a lot like Jake and Izzy. (It's not them trust me) The Plot thickens! Dom Dom __**Dom! **__Crud! I forgot to mention that Colorado Springs in experiencing some heat wave like weather. Thus, after church everyone but Jake head over to the café. Jake heads over to the barbershop to park the wagon out of the way but gets coerced into giving Mr. Dickenson (mentioned in A Time to Heal) a shave. Which turns out to be the worst decision Jake ever made (in this story) because once Mr. Dickenson leaves Celina slithers in! (Isn't that just a slap your forehead D'hoh kind of moment.) Well she backs the wee lamb up against the hutch (total role reversal), almost calls him Harris (we still don't know yet) and kisses him. He shoves her off just in time to see that Teresa was standing there and saw the kiss! _

_At this point I was a real stinker and made you guys read a flashback from back when Jake collapsed and Dr. Mike came over. She and Teresa let the past be water under the bridge and bond. At which point Michaela tells Teresa she can trust Jake. Which brings us back to the brouhaha at hand. Teresa confronts Celina who blames Jake for not acting like a married man (she practically throws him under the bus, or in this case wagon), then tries to turn it around on Teresa saying if she hadn't been gone, Izzy wouldn't have bonded with her. And my personal favorite scene, Teresa slaps Celina so hard her head bounces of the glass on the barbershop doors. (This is the point where we all join hands and do a little happy dance) So Jake professes his love to Teresa and they both admit that their hearts are broken. Celina goes back to her room and discovers her photograph is gone.(and if you thought she was crazy before, well now she's snapped completely. We're at full bunny alert!)_

_Jake takes Teresa who hurt her hand to the Clinic where Hank and Randall join them to compare notes. The photograph is passed around and I maliciously cut you off before you could find out what was written on the back of the frame. This is when we find that Loren is grappling with his conscience and we find that school will be starting soon. (Yes, if your thinking it. Yes.) Now Michaela reads the back. J.B. Harris Hemlock, Alexandra M. Hemlock, Amie Hemlock, the names of the family. (These are anagrams for Jim Knobeloch and Alex Meneses. Just thought it was fun, nothing more) It's decided that Randall should send a wire to Denver inquiring about the family and Celina's past. But some hesitation and Teresa suddenly jumping to Randall's rescue, proves he can't read or write. Michaela is the only one to notice this. (I hinted with the Bank's banner, the Gold Nugget sign, and his avoiding mention of the names written on the back.)_

_Hank takes the photograph back, gets all rough and tumble with Celina and tells her to leave town. She turns the tables on him, cause she's so nuts by now she is scaring Hank! _

_After all this, as Jake and Teresa travel home (Cloud Dancing took Lucy and Izzy home earlier in the day) they are uncharacteristically silent. She won't talk to him but she keeps staring at him. They reach home and she has a breakdown in the garden. Cloud Dancing takes the girls and Jake totally takes charge and cares for Teresa. [sigh] She admits to torturing herself about past behaviors and tells Jake the happiest news he's had since I started torturing him with this trilogy. She loves him like a soul mate which is really what he wanted from her. _

_Now we know about Harris and Denver. Celina, new to the city, meets Harris a dentist working as an artist. He has a strong resemblance to Jake in gesture as well as appearance. They fall in love. Its looking quite a bit like Celina was normal at some point. (More to come on that later)_

_And that pretty much catches us up. I also can't believe a summary was this long. But I hope this helps. If not then you can just laugh at the fact that I'm incapable of summarizing. Or maybe just way more stuff happened in these 12 Chapters than in the first ones. Next one's coming up (chapter). I won't leave you twistin' in the wind. Oh I also want to thank you for reading, and giving these stories a chance. Especially, those that review. Thank you so very much for the encouraging words. They mean a lot, and keep me writing. Thanks again. ~S5M_


	26. Chapter 25

Close to midnight, the world around them seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. A warrior's gust galloped over the shadowy green luster of the trees, driving the torrid summer back with its war cry which howled down into the thick woods. The sky cast her tenebrous cloak spotting here and there with rolling charcoal clouds which smoked out the shining sparkle of every incandescent star. Opening every graveled pore and crevice the soil of the earth seemed to stretch sensory towards the coming silvery mist. Effervescent with the tingling musky fragrance of rain the ground softened and made ready for the parting of summer.

The clouds strung out through the velvet night misting every flower, rock, and tree. Glistening like a diamond dusted jewel the tamed wild basked richly as the sky eddied in peach swirls highlighted by white cottoned puffs of cloud tinted with a cool shade of periwinkle blue. The twilight of night fell back nearly in venerable awe, that the brilliance of morning had arrived. There was a crisp fresh coolness to the air lifting the spirit of the dew dripping champagne honeysuckle. Crimson and lush the roses bloomed, as their petals glittered with thick crystallized droplets from the nights misting. The fat gnarled trunks of the trees seemed to billow their bellies with delight as their dancing branches shimmered lace like torrents of opalescent rain from their heavy boughs onto the hawthorn and wormwood thickets. This sent a musky aroma up into the houses open windows tantalizing it's occupants into a wakeful state.

Every muscle in his body stretched without a single limb adjusting position. Jake inhaled the sweet rose scent from her glistening curling hair. It had dried in thick tight satin ropes curling in waves which veiled her pillow. Not a single line of tension traced her slumbering oval face, where she slept tucked beneath him. Her white cotton chemise dipped modestly over her chest leaving her arms and shoulders bare. Jake ran his white finger down along the creamy lightly browned flesh of Teresa's arm without waking her. He didn't think he had slept so soundly in days. That night after he'd helped Teresa from the copper tub, he'd sent her wrapped and caped in two linen towels, upstairs while he cleaned up. On his arrival into the bedroom, he'd discovered she'd slipped into her white cotton chemise and a pair of his white muslin short drawers. Although, she'd wrung out her hair, it blotched the thin fabric of her garments turning them translucent under her wet locks. After stripping down into his own ivory cotton johns, they'd crawled tiredly into bed. As usual, Jake had draped his leg over her thigh feeling her mold back into his body, tucking herself comfortably beneath him. Jake waited until he thought she'd slipped away into the confines of sleep, before he nudged her closer into the crook of his lap. It was as though she couldn't be close enough, and couldn't be more entwined with him. It wasn't desire or pleasure he was after, but pure affectionate intimacy. Then he felt it. Her hand floated up and behind her shoulder gently caressing his neck.

"I am yours," she whispered into a yawn. "All yours, my heart."

Now as he watched the mornings light brighten her face, Jake felt a pang strike at his heart. It was the exact same pang that he'd felt the first time he'd spoken to her outside the barbershop all those years ago. Deciding to allow her to sleep in a little longer, Jake quickly dressed, grabbing his boots up under his arm, he quietly crept down the hall and peeped into the nursery.

The tightly knit three had yet to stir. Pillows and blankets had been arranged in a semicircle on the floor, around a solitary oil lamp which had completely burned down. Lucy and Izzy were nestled under each crook of Cloud Dancing's arms, as they slept soundly. The only noise to be heard was a petite nipping as Izzy dreamily sucked on her thumb. Jake nudged back one side of his mouth, letting it curl up into a laughing smirk, before he retreated from the doorway and skipped down the steps. _So breakfast was on him,_ he thought plopping down at the bottom of the stairway and squeezing his feet into his boots.

A fine frosty draft slid in under the slither of a gap beneath the door, splashing invisibly against Jake's hands as he finished tying up his laces. The chilled sensation drew his eye to scrutinize the odd shadowy break in the line of light beneath the door. Brows raised curiously, Jake paced down the dim foyer and wrapped his long fingers around the bulbous brass knob. Cool and slick it clacked mental against metal in his grasp. Jake wasn't expecting anything odious, or anyone for that matter. His very being was still elated and complacent over the previous night's revelation. His wife loved him. Suddenly, the thought of Randall McCoy's fondness for Teresa stung a little less. Jake felt a little more strength in his faith that Celina could be dealt with. Here Jake opened wide the door and looked down at the object of his destruction.

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The telegraph man was the oddest fellow, Randall had ever chanced to lay his murky turquoise eyes on. His lips had pressed down hard on his habitual smile, locking back a chuckle as Mr. Bing goggled awkwardly in his direction. The man's lips seemed to pucker and yet squish forward as he scrutinized Randall's length. It wasn't until he'd handed the gangly fellow Ms. Teresa's note that those creased lips fanned out spreading into a welcoming smile that was all teeth and thankfully no gums.

"Why you must be Mr. McCoy!" the lanky giant mused excitedly. "The whole town's buzzin' 'bout yah! You brought Mrs. Slicker home. It's a mighty nice thing yah did. Her little one's were just dyin' tah see her back. Now maybe Jake'll set himself tah-"

Randall had held up his hand breaking in. He was positive if he hadn't the man would have spilled an entire chronicle on the, of late, unfortunate couple. "How much for the sending?"

"Oh if yer sendin this for Mrs. Slicker, Jake's still paid ahead of time, from when…" Horace seemed to check himself. "Well, from before."

Nevertheless, Randall had slid the steel money clip from the concealed pocket within the breast of his black and silver waistcoat, and pulled three bills free. He fanned them in the air as though he were showing Horace his hand at cards before tapping them down inside the office window.

"For your trouble," his voice was steady and his eyes arched pleasantly, disarming Horace of any ill thought.

"Aw, th-that's awlright. You ain't gotta tip me," Horace began to push the money back with his long spoon tipped fingers. But Randall held firm never loosing his easygoing swagger as he leaned into the window.

"Then let it be for your discreetness, over that wire," Randall stood back nodding his head graciously to Horace who smiled despite his new curiosity for this boyish and yet hard sort of man.

"Thank you just the same!" Horace yelled as the Randall had walked away. "You can count on me! I-I took an oath!"

Now with the morning hours so blissfully cool, and the town springing to life before his eyes, it was dawning on Randall that Colorado Springs was one heck of a town. It surprised him how colorful and quirkily contrasting the people of the town seemed to be. They were like the wafting white clouds in the sky. No two were the same shape and yet they drifted together no matter the wind or the storm. Randall strode across the unmarked intersection from the Gold Nugget to the Mercantile. There was a gruff smacking sound of a fist striking down on glass. The panes rattled but didn't break. Stepping up on the wooden walk, Randall patiently perched his shoulder against a weathered post which was helping to hold up the walks roof.

"You ain't gonna git much outta me, Loren!" Hank's voice was thick with grit and pulsing with defiance. "If yah won't listen tah Dorothy, yah won't listen tah Michaela, **YAH **won't listen tah **ME**…What's it gonna take old man? A council meetin'."

"Ah, I ain't seen none what any of you are talking about!" Loren's voice was a wall of defense. "I sat right next tah all three of 'em in church and not a thing happened! Now I say until one of them comes out fightin' or fretin' it's none of my concern! An' it ain't a council matter unless yah got proof!"

"I'll get proof," Hank rumbled like a thunderous hammer.

A stern silence followed before Loren's much calmer question fell unanticipated on Hank's head. "Why do yah care so much Hank? If it's true, she sounds like your sort of ah gal."

Hank mumbled something then, which left Loren stunned and Randall wishing he had had the presence of mind to be more of an eavesdropper than a willful bystander. It had to have been something quite powerful for as Hank lumbered through the wide open doorway and crashed down the walk, Randall was sure he'd seen the man blushing.

Turning on his heel, Randall lifted his chin as he starred at Loren Bray from under the bowed brim of his black slouch hat. The cerulean hue of his eyes pierced through the shadow which cast on his face as he approached the counter. He waited for the shop owner to shake off the look of a ruffle feathered, gawking chicken, before he nodded in greeting.

"Help yah?" Loren's eyes shifted after Hank's stalking strides as he disappeared into the depths of the saloon front.

Randall tipped his hat back squeezing his left eye in thought, "Ah can of peaches…ah big can."

Loren shook his head jostling his cheeks slightly, as he jabbed his thumb at the shelves behind him. "Only, got jars. No cans."

"That'll do," Randall tilted his head into his crooked smile. He paused thoughtfully as he watched Loren retrieve a medium sized mason jar filled with slick chunkily sliced, syrupy sweet sunshine. He felt the glands up under his jaw tighten with anticipation.

"That'll be a dollar twenty-five," Loren waited drumming his polished round fingertips on the counter.

"Um," Randall looked around him a little sheepishly. "You ah wouldn't happen to have anything that teaches readin' and writin' would you?"

It was evident Loren was still disheveled from Hank's inaudible admission. He sighed irately, clearly wanting time alone to think, "Yeah, a school teacher!"

Randall chuckled lightly, unfazed by the retort, "That's alright, mister." Randall smiled warmly handing Loren seventy-five cents over what he owed. Taking his jar in one hand and tipping his hat to Loren genially in parting, Randall quipped, "Already got me one of those. But thank you kindly for the preserves."

As Loren watched the stranger leave, he shook his full head. There were too many of the wrong kind of people coming to town, he thought before resigning himself to contemplate what Hank had said.

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His fingers wrapped around the ceramic glazed handle lifting the dynamite object before him. The two toned brown jug felt heavy under it's full weight, and the liquid within sloshed maniacally, seeming to bang against the stout cork. Jake sucked in his breath as he held the whiskey jug away from his body as if it were about to explode. His mouth swelled like it was filled with cotton, making his now dry tongue rub grittily into the roof of his mouth. It wasn't just any jug of whiskey. It was from Hank's good stash. Hank wouldn't do this to him. It had to have been Celina. But how did she get her hands on such a dangerously secure nectar which Hank prized so dearly, that he kept it from even the highest paying hands?

No matter how Jake was repulsed by it, he found he couldn't relinquish it from his grasp. The contents were so familiar to him, even now, as he felt the troublesome drink splashing about within, Jake felt he could smell it. Smell the alcohol nipping at his nostrils, inviting his lips to partake of its undoubtedly smooth texture, as it slid down his practiced throat. Coming to his rescue, his reasoning rushed forward reminding him of the emptiness it would taste of. The taste of a foul stench, poor judgment, frighten souls he'd worked so hard to gain with devotion and love, disappointed and crushed hearts. And one unsuspecting little heart which had just wandered down stairs groggily rubbing her pearl gray and blue eyes, as she stepped towards him.

"Papa?" Lucy yawned. "What's that, Papa?"


	27. Chapter 27

She sat for him for what seemed like hours, as he painted her soul onto the canvas before him. Harris told Celina her hair was the exact hue of lush crimson rose petals, and that her eyes rivaled the sheen of their viridian leaves. He lavished affectionate worship on her skin, claiming it to be as pure and unblemished as milk. His words caressed her, making her blind to the signs about them in the dentist building. It was a high brownstone wedged between a tenants building and a watchmaker. The first floor operated as Harris' workplace, consisting of a solitary reclining chair bolted into the center of the moderately sized room. Springing like the legs of a spider from this brick hued leather padded throne was a steel basin which sat upon its branch like a bird fountain. Upon another branching black wrought iron leg was a simple matching steel tray on which twisted abnormal instruments, akin to corkscrews and pliers. Leaning against a simple partial red brick and beige plaster wall was a humble hutch containing glass bottles of tonic rinses, squat round brown amber bottles of chloroform, and plain cardboard boxes of ready to sell pastes and brushes. There was a tight wooden staircase that led up to the second floor which held a modest loft. And here they sat, evening after evening, with Celina perched by the framed picture window, allowing Harris to paint her portrait. A portrait she would never have the chance to see.

The walls of the loft were brick as well, possibly darkening the room, if not for the dozens of paint splattered canvases strewn about. Each one vibrantly splashed with the kaleidoscopic expanse of the color spectrum. Paintings of the city, of Union Depot, of the people filling the paved streets of Denver, all cast and frozen into place with every color possible. With Harris' skill, he managed to take the dusty gloom of the industrializing city, and cement it with the brilliant tones and hues of a palette fit for a countryside filled with every wild flower imaginable. And now those brilliant hands were doing justice to her delicate form.

It was here that he touched her for the first time. Here that he pressed his full pleasantly curved lips to hers. He smelled of cigars and shaving tonic. How she delighted in watching as his lips curled up at the corners of his mouth when he smiled. And when he smiled, she could just see a hint of the bottom of his two front teeth. It was these things that had served to distract her, from the flat round glass bottle with the yellowing rubber tube wrapped around its base. A baby's bottle. Every time Celina entered the building with him, it had moved from its stead. Downstairs, upstairs, on the bureau next to a well worn rag doll, all screaming his secret at her blind love struck face.

Finally, that day had come flying at her like a fist, that voice which shoved her face into the world she'd risibly masked from her sight.

"Harris!" feminine and lovely as the rain dipping into a crystal pool of water. "Harris, I've brought Amie!"

He'd bolted at her, grabbing hold of her shoulders, forcing Celina to look him in his storming thunderous eyes. "If you love me, Celina…Darling. If you love me as I love you…you'll wait. You'll wait so I can explain everything! Can you do that, my love? Can you?"

Celina did love him. Loved him thoughtlessly and with the resolution of unrelenting and misjudged trust. All she could do was nod and watch as he bounded down the stairs and away from her. How that woman's voice sliced through her. How it's simple familiarity with her Harris drove a thick curled thorn through her anguishing heart. He was her Harris; Celina's wounded soul cried out to her in agony. Yet, the voices down bellow strung a different web of calumny and deceit.

"My Darling! I have a buyer upstairs. He may buy three of my best paintings!" Harris' lies were fluid. "Please take my darling girl home."

"Oh!" her tone was pleased. "I shan't stay a second longer. Take my love and all my luck." There was a pause, where any may discern a trusting wife might kiss her innocent and loving husband. And where was Celina left, but to watch from the window, as that unknowingly dainty creature with bundle in arm, strolled down the street. A flaxen haired creature, unaware that just above she'd shattered a heart.

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Drumbling into the saloon in a cantankerous manner Hank shunned every crapulous salutation. He barreled passed every questioning stare and viciously waved off every one of his overly accommodating girls. It was the solitude of the storage room Hank was after, and heaven help the man that stood between him and that sanctuary. The short dank room offered not only a chance to reflect on the implausible slip of the tongue he'd just had, but also it bought him enough time to allow this contemptuous flush in his cheeks to recede. Slamming the door shut behind him, Hank snatched up the short backed wooden chair from the sidewall and positioned it up against the door. Crashing into its hard unforgiving seat, his fingers rushed into the lapel pockets of his black waistcoat and retrieved the clipped cigar he'd been stowing. Teeth sparingly clenching about the richly smelling Cuban, he pressed his lips around the leafed roll, tasting the bitter flavor as he struck his match against the rough arm of the chair. Hank puffed bringing the warm smooth tendrils of smoke down his throat and into his lungs. His chest rose taking in every ounce of comfort and fell releasing his shame.

"Yah done it now," he muttered in vexation as the memory of the words he'd spoken slid relentlessly into his mind. How could he do it? How could he let it slip and in front of Loren of all people. _Must be gettin' soft…That's it. Gettin' soft with the passin' years is all, _Hank assured himself sucking in another lulling plume of smoke as he leaned back resting his head against the door.

_Why do yah care so much Hank? _Damn Loren! His response danced around in his head, echoing with far too much cheer. "Because I love them little cuties! They ain't never forgotten ah-bout me, an' I ain't fixin' tah forget ah-bout them!" It wouldn't be long now before the whole town would be buzzing with the news that rough and tumble Hank Lawson, had a soft spot for two little girls and their school teacher mama. Oh how they'd laugh. Oh how he'd plow them down with his rock solid fists of fury! Yet sure, as he was that his omission would cause him distress, Hank also knew that it was true. He did care quite deeply for Luc' and Izzy. Didn't he enjoy watching little Luc' learning to ride her new pony in the meadow. Didn't he chuckle with delight every time someone that wasn't known to Izzy, shakily handed her back to her parents when she screamed with hardy displeasure? Why, he'd been there to celebrate both their births and held them both on their first nights in this world. Of course, he loved them. They were his best friend's children.

These revelations were hitting Hank hard, even as he thought about the woman who had taught him to read. She was always inviting him up to the house for dinner, and offering him a place on the holidays. Hank slouched down perching his elbow up on the scratched armrest. He wasn't expecting this. He never saw the warning signs, when they were staring him down two years ago. Two years since he saw how much Cloud Dancing meant to Luc'. How ready Jake had been to fight that green eyed soldier just for looking at Cloud Dancing the wrong way. It was for them that he'd done it. His actions were speaking for him and now it appeared he no longer had complete control of his words.

Hank sighed muddling in his lost reputation, allowing his eyes to wander about the storeroom. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with shallow shelves, containing the saloons stores of alcohol. Brown amber bottles of tawny whiskey, clear glass bottles glistening with their green ended sheen announcing their watered down components, all sat waiting to be brought out to the front. Sitting squat in the middle of the room where six corpulent barrels of beer which came up to Hank's ribcage when he stood. And here is where Hank, now realizing something was a muck, sat forward at full attention. For there resting atop these beer barrels should have been five two-toned glazed ceramic jugs of whiskey and moonshine, where now there stood only four.

Hank cursed knowing the impossibility of the fifth jug being under the bar in the saloon. Not a soul working for him, or a soul sheltered under him would dare lay a finger on those whiskey jugs. Slowly Hank's sandy lashes drifted downward as he considered the door. There had never been any need to place a lock or latch to the secure portal. No one would dare steal from him in this town.

"Yah'd have tah be outta yer ever lovin' mind," Hank scoffed under his breath. "Gotta be crazy…"

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Teresa stretched feeling marvelously calm as she elongated her limbs, enjoying the crisp feel of the cool sheets against her skin. In truth, as Jake had quickly washed up at the basin, his not so graceful movements had lightly roused Teresa from sleep. However, the bed had been so cozy and fresh; she had been loath to stir from it. Unbeknownst to Jake, she'd lain in false slumber, watching him dress through the heavy veiled curtain of her lashes. Fighting the mischievous smile curling on her face, she enjoyed the surreptitious views of Jake's bare skin, before he'd changed into his clothes and snuck out of the room.

What she wouldn't give to have pulled him down to her. To have pressed her lips to his neck and have felt the deep vibrations of his laugh through her mouth. Teresa felt a freshness about them. An imbuing new strength in their oneness that no scarlet haired siren could shake. It was going to take more than a forced kiss to break the love she had for Jake.

Teresa listened for his muffled footfalls as they treaded lightly down the hall. She absolutely had to get up. For this was a week of preparations, as school would be starting the following week. Lucy needed new shoes, the schoolhouse needed to be straightened out, and the children's books had to be brought back from the library's storage room. Then there was the matter of finding someone to watch Izzy, during the day. These thoughts cycled throughout her mind as she dragged herself from bed and began her usual washing routine.

Pacing lightly over to the cherry wood wardrobe, which rose fairly a foot above her head, Teresa pulled out her dress robe. She slipped into its shear cream colored sleeves, and pulled its full cascading skirts closed with a few of its widely spaced buttons. Her hands slipped back at the nape of her neck pulling her wavy onyx tresses free to bounce down over her shoulders and back. With a dainty yawn her slippered feet took her down the hall towards the nursery, were she peaked inside. Cloud Dancing was already up gingerly placing a sleeping Izzy into her cradle. He turned silently, lifting his finger to his bay hued lips. She met his yet sleepy gaze with a warm smile as she mouthed the word coffee, before they journeyed out of the room and down the steps.

"Papa?" Lucy yawned rubbing her drooping eyes.

Her small voice pulled Teresa and Cloud Dancing's attentions as they reached the bottom of the steps. Together they peered out at Jake's back as he took a shaky step out onto the sunlit terrace. Teresa knew what object Jake held so tightly in his grasp. Knew only too well, how it could bring their entire world crashing down into oblivion, if he even considered allowing it to pass beyond his lips. Who would bring such a poison, knowing what it could do to Jake? His voice was nearly inaudible to Teresa's ears as he asked Lucy to go back into the house. Teresa bit down hard on her lip as she watched her perplexed daughter step back innocently. Her instincts screamed at her to rush forward, and rip that horrific object from his grasp and send it crashing down to its own annihilation; however, steady dark hands cuffed her shoulders, staying her from any movement.

"Let the man show you his strength," Cloud Dancing beckoned as he too waited with rapt anxiety. He was attempting to hide it; however, he too was worried as he watched Jake wrestling with himself. Cloud Dancing did not want to see the old Jake return for even a second. It was a fear not for himself but for the young ones, who had never witnessed the abject folly of what their father had once been.

The jug made a muddled clunking sound as Jake set it down on the golden railing of the terrace. His hand remained clenched about the handle so tightly his fingers were beginning to ach. He could feel Lucy still standing at his back waiting for him to acknowledge her. Waiting for her father to pick her up and kiss her cheek. To tell her good morning and make her breakfast. He imagined the feeling of her little arms as they wrapped around his neck, and how her little face would nestle onto the shelf of his shoulder with a sigh. Lucy depended on him; her little life force depended on him, to keep her safe and happy.

Jake pressed his thumb against the side of the protruding round cork. Its corner pressed into the pad of his thumb causing the flesh to turn red as Jake made his decision. Simultaneously, as the cork popped open with a loud echoing sound, Teresa, Cloud Dancing, and Jake flinched. The acerbic aroma flooded his nostrils, making his throat tighten and his stomach rise abhorrently as though he were chopping about in a boat. Jake tossed his head back closing his eyes before forcing himself to watch as he brought the opened jug up into the air close to his chest. Pursing his lips, Jake held his breath as he leaned forward and spilled the contents of the whiskey jug out over the rail. As the last clear drops spilt out onto the soil, Jake angrily threw the jug out onto the cobbled path where it shattered against the round rocks, leaving jagged pieces of ceramic in its wake.

Placing his hands on the dew misted rail, Jake hung his head, waiting for his heart to ease itself. His fingernails dug into the goldenrod paint, cracking little flecks up under the nail beds. The whites of his knuckles blotched under the pressure turning red, until the tiny blades of her fingers came up and clung around one of his hands.

"Papa?" Lucy asked poking her head between his arm and his hip. "What was that?"

"Something bad honey," Jake swallowed nudging her close to his side. Lucy wrapped her arms around his hip rubbing the sleep from her face on his pant leg. "Something bad."


	28. Chapter 28

His finger ran along the flat curve of the slate metal mugs handle. The unbalanced pressure set the empty cup on its side reminding Loren of how long he'd been waiting for Grace to refill his coffee. Fingers pressing with more force than necessary along the now cold round of metal, Loren set the mug to rights with an angry thud. His eyes shifted about attempting to catch the eye of any of the hedging waitresses nearby. They hemmed precipitously engaged with paltry chores, rather than deign attendance on him.

Loren sighed observing the sparse scattering of diners eating at the café this afternoon. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the fact that he was being made an example of by being treated as an outcast. While the store had been full up with customers picking up their garment orders and being fit for measurements, the floor was oddly empty of his usual drop ins. Hank hadn't been in to fill out his usual orders for the saloon, and Dorothy who he'd seen rushing down the walk towards the clinic, hadn't even cast a curious glance back through the doorway. Not to mention the fact, that he hadn't seen Jake and the girls since Sunday. Come to think about it, Loren thought as he drummed his round bent fingers on the blue and white hatched tabled cloth, Jake hadn't truly spoken to him since that day he'd formally introduce himself to Ms. Marrow.

Fortuitously, as Loren broke off from his meandering thoughts, the dim coals of his eyes locked with the chocolate morsels that were Grace's eyes. With coffee kettle in hand, she froze somewhat contritely, peering from Loren's empty mug to the heavy sloshing container she held in her hands. Mashing up one side of her lips, she hooded her eyes as she placed one hand indignantly on her aproned hip.

"Are you gonna fill this mug or not!" Loren grabbed the ribbon of metal that was the mugs handle and shook it at her.

"Are you gonna pull yer head oudda yah ill gotton money stacks and do what needs tah be done?" Grace waited tapping her toe on the dusty yellow earth.

Their eyes remained locked in a dogged match of strength and stubbornness, until a familiar yet precariously even voice broke through the tension.

"I need tah talk tah yah," Jake strode up to Loren's table cautiously determined. Beneath the cobalt of his duster, his shoulders were set in a trembling mass of tautness. Jake nodded to Grace as he removed the suede Stetson from his head, combing his fingers through his autumn tufts with his other hand. He didn't wait for an invitation as he sat opposite Loren and placed his hat on the table by the dainty glass vase, that held spokes of white daisies surrounded by drooping skirts of orange poppies. Jake could feel Grace pulling away before she shot back at his side startling him with a freshly piping mug of coffee. She smiled warmly patting his arm before stabbing Loren with a patented glare and sashayed to a distance within earshot.

Self-consciously, Jake caressed the hot metal sides of the mug, feeling his stomach bubbling nauseously from the smell. Normally, he loved the subtle scents of chicory and roasted nutmeg mingling and drifting up the thick plumes of heat. However, with the rude acidic aroma of whiskey still lingering in his nostrils, Jake felt his stomach roll unpleasantly. He hadn't even been able to get down a fork full of Teresa's fluffy scrambled eggs. Even the sizzling salty confection of the heap of bacon she'd set down for anyone to take squeezed his throat making it hard even for him to swallow. His only reprieve had been in the warm toasted disk of a tortilla which he rolled between his palms and calmly ate. And Teresa's hand gently stroking the back of his neck with loving and compassionate reassurance, as she passed behind him fueled his resolve to confront Loren.

"You gonna drink that?" Loren indicated the smoky liquid cradled in Jake's trembling hands.

With a shrug, Jake pushed the mug into Loren's waiting palm as he slid back into his chair letting his hand slap down onto his lap. "I don't wanna beat around the bush here-"

"I know whatcha gonna say," Loren cut him off. He took a relishing sip from the retrieved mug as he smirked taunting Grace with his eyes.

Jake leaned forward again, this time resting his elbows on the table with his hands outstretched. "Look…I ain't about cuttin' into a man's business, but ah…_**Loren**_ that woman's gotta go."

"Now wait just a minute there Jake," Loren rubbed his finger under his nose before he continued. "I ain't so sure gettin' rid o'hers the thing. She ain't caused no trouble 'round the store. She's just fine around the customers and I -"

"This ain't about your damn store! She's ruinin' my life!" Jake bellowed unknowingly casting the area in silence. "I gottah family tah protect. Teresa, she…" Jake lowered his booming voice as he peered heartbrokenly down at his hands. "She's been hurt by her."

"She hit Teresa?" Loren shook his head. "Hmmm. That's not the way I heard it."

Jake huffed narrowing his eyes at Loren. Not wanting to divulge every tainted detail in order to spare Teresa some gossip, Jake nudged the corner of his mouth back.

"I ain't askin' anymore," Jake slammed his fist down onto the tabletop sending the flowers and vase to quaking, almost as though they understood the gravity of the situation around them. "This morning I found a jug of Hank's whiskey at my door." He rose grabbing at his hat as he towered over Loren. "She ain't proper and I won't have her near my girls! Until, she's gone, we'll do all our shoppin' in Denver."

"Ahhh, now wait ah minute Jake," Loren stood patting at the air attempting to quell the dramatics.

"Jake! Jake!" it was Horace, ambling down between the clinic and the Gazette. "That wire, yah had Mr. McCoy send to Denver! Answer just come through," he panted as his gangly wrist flicked the yellowish paper into Jake's snatching grasp.

Placing his Stetson on his head, Jake quietly read the telegram, unaware of Grace, Horace, and Loren who stood around him frozen in suspense. "'Cuse me… gotta get up to the schoolhouse," Jake said to no one in particular as he darted off in the wrong direction. However, upon his righted returned he shoved his shaded face up under Horace's stumbling demeanor. "You breath a word Horace! An' I'll sew your lips shut myself!"

"Don't worry Jake," he watched as the square cobalt tails of Jake's duster disappeared around the corner of the Gazette. "I won't…"

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The thick blades of grass sprung up reaching like pixie fingers towards the shinning golden orb hanging among the cotton wafts in the sky. Humming with eagerness the open meadow surged with abundant delicate flora. Carpets of dancing clover beds lay in gradient patches leading up to the cozy schoolhouse. The brick toned academic abode, nestled back within the crooked arm of cottonwood shrubs, and round reaching oak branches which dripped down into the high springing lemon grass thickets. Blocking the inclined path stood an obsidian charger set within the confines of a lightly loaded wagon. The inky creature stood sentinel over another much smaller ebony maned creature which stood in reverent adoration of the former.

Lucy reached her arms high in order to touch her fingertips to the obsidian charger's velvety muzzle. The horse obliged her small hands, stooping its mighty head down, nudging her chest. Clinking and rattling against the shadow of the rather large animal's barrel the harness chain holding Cin' to the wagon seemed somehow out of place on such a regal horse. Nonetheless, he seemed to be tolerating the annoyance in favor of the nose stroking attentions of the small child before him. Lucy giggled running her fingers through Cin's course sable mane as it hung like Spanish moss between his darting ears and down his ebony forehead.

"Gettin' to know each other?" Randall inquired stepping down the pale dirt pathway from the schoolhouse. He cast one of his sealed smiles in Lucy's direction as he began loading more books into his arms, from the back of the wagon.

Lucy nodded genially at her mother's new friend. "What's his name?"

"Cin'," Randall came about, his arms scooped upwards, piled five books high in each arm.

"Sin?" Lucy furrowed her brow in distaste. "Like something bad?"

Randall chuckled, as the crystalline pools of blue in his eyes seemed to luminousness brilliantly under the bright sunlight. He peered down at the little beauty frowning up at him. "Cin' is short for Cincinnati, where I was born."

"Ooooh," Lucy's eyes rounded showing off her own opaline hued crystals which seemed to light from behind her thick black lashes. "If my Papa says it's alright, may I ride him?"

Randall felt at a loss seeing how her brows rose with hope, and her little bow of a mouth pressed into a crooked smirk, reminiscent of Mayor Slicker himself. After constantly being told about what a charming belle this child was, and to finally see her nearly knocked Randall off Cin's saddle. Her skin was a soft creamy café au lait color which contrasted breathtakingly with the same storm shifting eyes of her father. They were gray as a gale rushing over the sea, then cool and dark as the depths of the calm blue ocean. However, her most disarming attribute lay within the unmistakable expressions and gestures which were clearly passed down from Jake.

"Sure honey, whatever your papa says is alright," Randall relished the way her eyes arched with joy, and her glossy jet ringlets bounced over her small shoulders. He couldn't quite get over what a perfect little hybrid of her parents Lucy was. Not even when one of those parents made themselves known from the opened doorway of the schoolhouse.

"Lucy, are you bothering Mr. McCoy?" Teresa called down to them.

"I'm gonna ride Cin' if Papa says I can," she apprised her mother, strolling along side Randall as he ambled up the path, under the weight of the books in his arms. "Can I go ask Papa now?"

Teresa laughed reaching out to relieve Randall of on of his stacks, "_**May **_you ask your Papa…and yes…you may."

Lucy turned excitedly on her heel and ran down through the meadow as fast as her feet could carry her to the barbershop. With a lighter load, Randall watched from beneath his brow as the angel with the pearls for eyes bolted in the direction of town.

"I have seen that look before," Teresa wandered farther into the schoolhouse placing her stack with the other children's books on her desk. Her eyes shifted to the corner of the room where Izzy sat on her blue fleece blanket, blissfully sucking on her fingers, and staring up at every movement her mother made. "It is the look of another admirer, set to spoil Lucy rotten."

Randall placed his own load on top of Teresa's and stepped back roguishly rounding his shoulders as he leaned his elbow on the highest stack of books. "Ah well, it's not hard to love a child that sweet."

"Well," Teresa smiled tucking a loose strand of lazy curl back behind her ear. "Guard your heart…for Lucinda only has eyes for Jake."

"As well, she should," he quipped back. There was a silent moment that fell over the small room as Randall fought to find the words to say. He filled that time watching Teresa dusting off the desktops before laying a scarlet hardcover book on the thin wooden ledge of each desk. As his lips curled up to one side, he squinted the eye above it. "I uh. I just wanted to tell yah if…um…well."

Teresa looked up from the third row clasping her hands in front of her maroon skirts. "Is everything alright?"

"I may have to be on my way soon," he stood up straight now hooking his thumbs at the back of his pants. "And I want you to know I'm not too keen on leaving you all in the lurch like this."

Teresa's shoulders slumped as she nodded a little sadly. She had gotten so accustomed to his presence she hadn't yet considered the fact that when she had met him, they were on the train. And that Randall had only intended on riding through Colorado Springs, rather than stay in the small town.

"How silly of me," she pressed her fist to her breast. "Of course, you where going somewhere, when I came along."

"Ms. Teresa," Randall began, wanting to tell her how badly he wanted to stay. Yet, as the words reached his commonly closed lips, he saw Jake's strutting figure looming up the path. Jake's hands swung at his sides as his booted feet kicked out at his pant legs as he walked. Teresa turned following Randall's stare out onto the small porch.

"Jake?" the toe of her boot barely had time to tap the bottom step before Jake waved his telegram in the air.

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Katie pressed her back to the stone corner of the clinics wall. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop on her mother and Cloud Dancing like this, however, the consistent regularity with which she was being sent out of the room had peaked her curiosity. Her long feathered chestnut lashes wriggled as she blinked catching strands of gold and copper fringe into her eyes. Swiping her slender white hand along her brow, to remedy this, Katie reclined her head closer to the open window facing the street.

"This is ridiculous," her mother hissed with uncharacteristic abhorrence. "I'm sorry for my outburst, Cloud Dancing…but…"

"He did not drink," Cloud Dancing was clear. "I watched with my own eyes as he poured out the drink and shattered the vessel upon the ground."

"I must speak to Loren again. Perhaps, now he'll listen to reason. Surely, he would understand the gravity of what this is doing to Jake," Michaela was resolved now.

"He has shown himself to have great strength today," Cloud Dancing went on. "But I am afraid for the young one's should she decide to attack him again. As for Loren. Jake is seeking him out as we speak."

There was slight pause as Katie cast her attentions toward the small figure running down through the meadow. Knowing exactly what her mother and Cheyenne father were discussing, Katie shuttered. She'd had occasion to hear the unfortunate back handed stories, from classmates on the playground, of Mayor Slicker's alcoholic past. The boys relished telling of the height of his downfall, in which he'd stood drunkenly singing atop the mercantile shooting off his gun. Well, she'd nipped them in the bud, but good, on Lucy's first year at school. With Matthew sternly watching them from the meadows edge, they'd made sure that Lucy never prematurely discovered that the father she loved so dearly had been the fool. Now as Katie listened to her mother's and Cloud Dancing's fears, she prayed that this foul secret was not making itself known once more.

"Can not the council voter her out?" he asked innocently.

Michaela remained mute a moment, "Not without president. Certainly, not without proof. And I'm afraid something like this would be placed before the whole town…And what would that do to the girls?"

"Lucy!" Katie ran out into the street just catching her small charge before she could dart passed the saloon.

"Katie!" Lucy was out of breath, leaning one hand up on Katie's shoulder for support. "Mr. McCoy…He says I…can ride his Cin'-I mean his horse Cincinnati. But I gotta ask my Pa first!"

Holding on to Lucy's shoulders in turn, Katie thought a moment, "No Lucy. Your Pa's not up at the shop." Katie nibbled nervously on her bottom lip.

"Then he's at Grace's," she pulled away, taking her dearest friends hand in hers. "Come on. Mr. McCoy'll let you ride Cin' too."

But Katie firmly held Lucy from rapid flight. "Robert E…He's about ready to feed your pony…" She felt she was grasping at proverbial straws. "Betcha haven't seen him since your ma left."

"Yeah," Lucy relented feeling some oddity with the way everyone had been acting around her. However, relinquishing all thought of mass conspiracy, Lucy fell as always to the playful notions of her most trusted companion. "I've been missing him too."


	29. Chapter 29

The muscles in her shoulders pulled tightly making her feel as though she were hunching over. Her slender neck crackled like eggshells crunching under a boot heel, as she swiveled her head. Stretching her petite arms out and up over her head, Celina popped nearly every bone and yanked the tautness out of every muscle. With the last of her appointments finally out the door, Celina set about straightening her workspace. Fastidiously, she noted each client in her ledger, marking those which had paid and were fitted into apparel, and those that had only been measured and not paid. Now with her percentages tallied Celina was about to count out the physical cash, when his boots lightly shuffled through the wide doorway.

There was something toxic in his demeanor, as he stopped close to her counter. His eyes studied her with an air of mistrust, until they cast down like a feather floating to the ground, on the thick leaves of cash in her hand. She smiled as she fluttered the loose lettuce about like a fan.

"Another good day for business, Mr. Bray," Celina declared wearing the mask of naïve innocence. "You might have to put an order in for more gingham by the end of the week, we are doing so well!"

Loren took the monetary fan in his hand feeling the way the bills crinkled together in their thick stack. He wanted to look her in the eye, yet his line of sight could only linger on the cash in his hand. Slowly, he shuffled back to his side of the counter, and noted his profits in his own ledger before counting out Celina's percentage. She was doing well, and he was doing better. Loren pushed her cut away from him, sliding the bills along the sleek glass counter. Without meeting her gaze, he watched as Celina came around and took up her earnings. _I gottah family tah protect. _Jake's voice cut into Loren's thoughts clanging at the bell of his heart. _This morning I found a jug of Hank's whiskey at my door_. It clanged again vibrating within his chest. Celina was humming to herself as she counted out her money before placing it safely inside the pocket concealed within the folds of her green and blue gingham skirt. _She ain't proper and I won't have her near my girls! _This last cut him to the quick, as he pictured Lucy and Izzy. Loren didn't doubt Jake would keep them from the store. He might not stop at that, for Loren knew once Jake set his mind to something it was as good as done. Even if Teresa protested, Jake would keep the girls from coming close to seeing Celina. He recalled Jake's threat to move his shopping to Denver. That might not be all he moved there. Not seeing Jake was one thing, but not being able to watch those girls grow up, as he had with most the children in this town, couldn't be had.

"Uh, Celina?" Loren hedged about coming around to her sewing counter. "What'd you say if I were tah double yer percentage?"

She had just been setting to leave for the day when Loren's sudden offer froze her in her tracks by the doorway. "Double my percentage?"

"Well, ah… we been doin' so good lately…" he nervously ran his hands down along his stomach as he lowered his chin to his chest. "Maybe it'd be time we went our separate ways. You'd have enough money tah move on…I could ah…."

"Move on?" Celina scrunched her finely shaped chestnut brow over her mossy eye. The wheels within her mind turned picking up steam as she sought a new strategy. Allowing her face to fall serene, she stood before Loren clasping her small white hands in front of her skirts. "Mr. Bray…I see gossip has worked its way into your stead. I can assure you that it is only that…gossip. The stories I have heard conceived, are blatant lies of fancy and I will not stand by quietly any longer."

"Now, Jake came to me himself-"

"I am not placing any blame on Mayor Slicker," she interrupted with trembling lips. "He is a fine family man. A gentleman… I believe this is merely a misunderstanding among us women folk. I understand how she must feel after having been away from her husband for so long…and I now see the imprudence of my over kindness were her children were concerned. But as I tried to assure Mrs. Slicker, her accusations are severely misguided."

"Well, she's always been kinda mistrustin'. S' ah wonder…" Loren stopped to wonder a moment. Hadn't the gossip started before Teresa had returned? Up until this point, Loren hadn't had much reason to scrutinize Celina's appearance. He had hardly looked her in the eye much less noticed her face. Noting the difference in the position of her plaited hair, Loren perked up.

A sideswipe of satin scarlet fell purposefully across her forehead and over one side of her temple and cheek. The rest tucked back in a twirled braid passed her ears and spun into an oblong flat bun at the base of her neck. With the blades of her fingers Celina, self-consciously ran along this swipe of hair accidentally revealing some of the purple bloom of bruised flesh beneath. The proof was in the pudding or in the bruise as Loren saw it. So Teresa had struck Celina.

"Please," she raised her hand to him warily hooding her eyes underneath her feathered tawny lashes. "I have forgiven Mrs. Slicker her abuse, as I'm sure she has forgiven herself. As I said, she was misguided by gossip."

Stymied, Loren ruffled up no longer sure of his thoughts or feelings in the matter. The only thing he was positive of was how hurt he would be if Jake cut him out all together.

**xXx**

Her station secured for the moment, Celina sashayed out onto the busy street, side stepping the rolling wagons and burdened horses until she reached the livery. Intending to procure a horse from Robert E., she boldly ventured into the open fenced stable stretching her petite pointed nose in the direction of the smoking forge. Flaxen gold and hushed green oak leaves rattled overhead, pulling Celina's attentions in the direction of the eye high fenced in stall, and the little pitch hued brunette watching her from between the slats.

**xXx**

From Randall's new position behind Teresa in the dim doorway of the schoolhouse, he could see the color in Jake's eyes blazing beneath the shaded brim of his suede slouch. He'd never in his life seen blue fire, yet he was sure he was witness to it now. As Jake lumbered excitedly up the steps, he seemed to tower like a pillar over Teresa and himself. Somehow, his cobalt duster made him appear as a sheathed sword, bold and erect as he tipped his hat back on his head, allowing two coma like curves of auburn bangs to fall loose framing his forehead. The effect drew back his menacing demeanor, revealing a youthful softness to his face and an almost boyish quality. It was a flicker of the bachelor. And just like a flicker, it was gone, replaced with a love struck sense of duty as his now clouding blue skies fell on his wife.

"Uh-oh," Randall mused leaning back to perch on one of the desks with his legs stretched before him. Clapping his hands flatly together, he wedged them between his ankle-crossed legs as he observed the couple.

"Jake?" Teresa drew herself up readying herself for the blow.

"Answer came through," Jake gruffly exhaled handing her the telegram. Now with his hands free, Jake slid them under the front flaps of his duster and rested them on his narrow hips.

"Mr. Slicker," Teresa read aloud for Randall's benefit. "If you love your wife…" here she glanced up to meet Jake's intent gaze before continuing. "do not let her out of your sight. If you have children, I pray I reach Colorado Springs, before anything can happen…" Teresa's voice faltered slightly with shock. "I caution you. May she never discover that you have reached me. Archibald Eli Marrow."

Jake watched as the telegram compacted in her tightening fist, fishing to the surface the memory of her family's letter, which had called her away from him, in what felt like ages ago. "I know you're not going tah like this-"

"Jake, no," she waved her still rather sore but now functioning hand in the air as if to erase his words.

"I'll ask Hank-" one hand flew away from his hip and questioned the air with his palm.

"No!" she squared her shoulders determinately. "We have asked far too much of him already."

Jake cast his gaze about the room, his eyes beginning to shift between where Izzy sat engrossed in the tiny white border of lace on the hem of her dress, and Randall. The two men locked together in a silent agreement. Randall's heavy tow frosted brow arched rounding his aquatic topaz eyes as he bowed his lips between the creased parentheses of his mouth. Chin pushing down into his neck, he nodded in agreement, as he pushed himself up. He would stay…as long as he was needed, Randall "The Bullet" McCoy would stay.

Taking Teresa's hand gentling into his own Jake reassured her with just the stroke of his thumb along the heart line of her palm. Jake then eased her fisted hand letting the crumpled telegram fall to the ground as he held her hand to his chest. Without facing Randall he addressed him thus, "Not that you'll need 'em, but you may wanna strap on your guns."

"That's not necessary," Randall dropped his hip, swinging his hands into a clap, holding them up by his chest for a moment. "I don't deal in lead…" he smirked jovially.

Jake raised a brow at this. A man known as The Bullet, who didn't have guns. He opened his mouth about to press this mystery of a man, who had blown seemingly blind into the fray of their lives; when, Teresa gasped. She grabbed at the lapels of Jake's duster forcing him to look down his chest at her.

"Lucy went looking for you at the barbershop, Jake," she pleaded. "You didn't see her?"

However, before Jake could answer, Randall swung about, jumping onto the bench of the wagon and drove Cin' down through the meadow towards town.


	30. Going on Hiatus

Hey guys! Just letting you know I won't be able to post a new chapter for a short while. Some unforeseen events have fallen in my lap. But I want you to know how much I appreciate you taking the time to read my chapters and also those that have reviewed. I loved every single word. And I do hope that you will be around when I come back. Oh and I'm so sorry I'm leaving you guys on a cliff hanger. Hang in there kitties! I'm so looking forward to returning to Jake's little world. I kinda made a home in it that was a little neat, even if only to me. Well, hope to be back soon. All you readers and writers are amazing.

~S5M


	31. Chapter 31

"How're you girls doin' ovah there?" Robert E. wiped the perspiration from his face with a dingy rag. He stepped away from the sweltering forge and maneuvered his way into the stable pen.

The girls stood on either side of the chocolate pony's rump, lightly brushing his bay coat to a glossy shine. With her slender heart shaped face, just clearing the height of the animals curved back, Katie smiled pressing the middle of her lips together. Her sapphire eyes drifted down to observe Lucy's far wandering expression. Seeing how her little charge was lost in thought, Katie shrugged happily, "Just fine, thank you Robert E."

His eyes shifted, following Katie's curious stare, and settled on Lucy. Her little hand held the currycomb lightly against the pony's thigh, no longer moving, and no longer fixed in the moment. Lucy's eyes hazed in an overcast sky, unseeing, and completely lost to the world around her.

"Lucy," Katie nervously chuckled attempting to bring her friend out of her trance.

Robert E. crushed the sides of his mouth back, feeling a little bewildered. With all the wild stories, he'd been hearing from Grace, about this Marrow woman–he had been wondering about the girls. The strife and struggle had not surpassed the town, as the gossip about Ms. Marrow and Jake had spread like wildfire. He too, like so many others had thought Ms. Teresa's return would finally put an end to all the craziness. Now seeing how thick the haze was that surrounded this small child's mind, Robert E. wondered if it might be prudent to pool the resources of the council.

"Hey, now," he gently nudged her shoulder, causing her to break away from that intangible web of thought.

Lucy blinked seeming a bit frazzled at recalling the scene around her. She nudged back one side of her lips, as she acknowledged Robert E.

"Now, where'd you go off tah?" his soft alto intoned with the melodic inquiry.

"I…I," Lucy tried, looking from Katie's encouraging lapis eyes to Robert E's warm nurturing expression. She wanted to say it. Wanted to allow them into her room and show them what fear she'd been harboring of late. After all, the town was a sort of home was it not? And its citizens the family within. They were a part of her just as much as her father, mother, and grandpaw. They were a tribe, as her grandpaw would say. And a tribe protected the young ones. However, as Lucy once again looked from her best friend to gentle Robert E. she felt a need to protect them as well. For in her mind, if she told them, they might react on her behalf and be hurt in the process. Hurt like her mother had been hurt. Hurt like her father. "I…was… just dreaming."

Robert E. pulled at the handkerchief from around his neck and absently wiped his hands. He knew she was holding back. "Musta been some kind of ah day dream." He moved as if to check the time from the banks round clock. "S'bout time for Michael tah come do his chores. You girls mind fetchin' him from his Ma's side? I'll put yah pony back for yah."

"Certainly," Katie assured him with all the charm of her mother's response.

Lucy merely nodded backing away with the currycomb still held within her hand. In the process of turning to hang the grooming tool on the 10-penny nail on the stall fence, a shadow cast between the horizontal slats. The wind cast the faint scent of roses through the wood planks, causing Lucy to feel a false sense of safety. Drawing herself closer she peered, almost playfully, between the fence only to find Ms. Marrow's disturbing viper scaled eyes staring down at her.

"Excuse me, Robert E.," she called over the fence, putting on a show of ignorance towards Lucy's presence. "I'd like to take a horse out and do some riding for the evening."

Robert E. halted himself and the pony, remaining in the small open stable. His face betrayed nothing as he nodded dropping the reins to Lucy's pony. The sooner he gave this woman what she wanted the better for the children. Reluctantly, he turned his back and hurried into the closest stable pen to retrieve her usual horse.

"And how are we this fine afternoon?" Celina's mouth curved upwards like the mouth of a rattlesnake. Her mossy eyes locked in on Katie. Moving forward continuing to ignore Lucy, Celina clasped her hands before her stomach. "You must be Dr. Quinn's Katie. How beautiful you are…just like your mother."

Katie blushed sensing the veiled insult within the compliment. However, before she could retaliate in Lucy's defense the woman turned suddenly, as though she were seeing Lucy for the first time.

"Oh! Little Lucy Slicker. But you have your mother's looks as well," her chestnut brow arched as she hooded her eyes with cynical repose. "But you have your father's eyes to make up for that."

Lucy remained silent. In her innocence, she wasn't quite positive if those malice woven words where indeed what she had heard. Maintaining her credulous expression Lucy looked to her friend. Her friend whose once soft fair complexion was now turning pink with anger. Katie stomped forward taking Lucy by the hand and pulled her close behind her. Lucy was the closest thing she had to a little sister, and if this hostility went on there would be a mighty reckoning. Katie squared her shoulders, looking dead on into Celina's smirking face. Her chin tilted forward exuding Michaela's righteous intelligence. "My Ma says there are all different kinds of beauty… But being beautiful means nothing if your insides are rotten."

It was too much. Celina couldn't hold back the sneer on her face. Her mouth dropped, about to release a fresh assault of verbal manipulation, when Robert E. made himself known. His steps were deliberate and just slightly menacing as he advanced on Celina. Roughly, he smacked the leather reigns of the freshly saddled horse into Celina's delicate hands. She winced just so, feeling a light sting from the way the leather whipped her palms. The tension was thick and storming around them. Robert E. had heard.

The lines that ran from the corners of his mouth up to his wide set nose, creased with disgust. How could someone say such things to a child? Never in his entire life had he wanted to push a woman down. But this surely, was no woman. It made him sick to have to accept the money; she insolently placed in his hand. Standing as though he had ten men at his back Robert E. made himself a barrier between Celina and the girls.

As he watched her slither onto the horse's saddle, there was a slight quake to the ground beneath his feet. It distracted him, causing him to shift away from the turning hindquarters of Celina's horse. A muted uproar was barreling through the town, and the sounds of a rushing wagon filled their ears. It all happened so fast…

Robert E. turned seeing how the sound had brought Lucy to stand in front of Katie protectively. But the sudden fidgeting of Celina's horse had spooked the pony, which was now backing nervously in Lucy's direction. He would never be able to prove that Celina had bucked her horse on purpose; however, as her mare flashed upwards and back smacking into the pony's rump Celina darted out of the stables. The pony reared frightened, kicking its hind legs out, startling Katie back but launching Lucy forward. Their hands detached in the break as Robert E. flung himself into harms way.

xXx

The empty wagon jostled horridly, seeming to catch every ground swell and grass covered ditch in the meadow. Remaining set on the task at hand, Randall's crystal blue eyes pierced narrow beneath his furrowed brow. He cracked Cin's reigns again, forcing the midnight charger fast down the sloping hill towards the bridge. There were moments when the wagon lifted just inches above the ground, before dumping itself down again with a hard thwack. Randall was sure that by the time he reached the town's open street, there would be nothing left of the wagon but the high bench and two front wheels.

Clearing the bridge, he thought he'd heard a loud echoing crack ring off in his left ear. Turning his head in the direction of the sound, he barely caught the sight of Jake rushing down the meadow, in his peripheral vision. Yet, it was the cracked and dangling rail of the now busted bridge, and the left back wheel of the wagon rolling off towards the Gazette that got his full attention. Turning back, he maintained speed, ignoring the townspeople who had rushed up on the walks to avoid being hit. Not to mention Hank who had emerged from his din to keep pace with the back of the busted wagon. Reaching the end of the clinic, Randall pulled back on the reigns. He dug his heels into the backboard, having to stand up, and lean back, with the leather straps reaching up nearly to his shoulders. The sudden halt rocked Cin's senses, causing him to rise up on his hind legs, breaking the chains off the right wooden stall rod.

Randall jumped down off of what was left of the wagon. The moment Cin' realized his human campaign was by his side, the horse set itself to rights, although remaining wild eyed and wary from the chase. Jogging lightly into the street of rattled onlookers, Randall held his cupped hands to his mouth, "Lucy!"

Several awed townies, pointed shell shocked toward the livery stables. Tipping his nonexistent hat to them with a closed smile, he added, "Thank you kindly."

"Lucy!" He continued to yell as he ran up to the coopering, not yet privy to the fact that Hank was at his heels. Nor did he know that Jake had cut through the café and would soon be coming up behind the scare of his life.

xXx

Robert E. lunged into the fray, fully prepared to take the impact of the pony's hooves. He snatched Lucy by the arm spinning her around so that her back fit up into his stomach. With his body, encasing her like a shield Robert E. awaited the crushing pain of the metal horseshoes to the back of his ribcage. He waited…There was no sound but his heart pounding away within his chest. That and the labored panting emanating from behind him. Having squeezed his eyes shut, he slowly lifted one sweat-beaded lid, before turning his head back in a bewildered state.

Jake looked as white as a ghost. His pale hands still clutched the bridle of the jerking pony, as he had pulled the creature away at the last second. Chest rising and falling, the damp square collar of his shirt had popped the top button in his mad dash towards the town. The rumpled article lay open to either side soaked in fear sweat. Jake had expected to find Lucy at Grace's, searching for him, only to catch a glimpse of Katie's coppery hair in the distance at the stables. As he'd reached the back of the livery enclosure, Jake had seen Celina rise up on the horse. Seen how she'd backed the animal up riling the pony into a bucking frenzy. With no memory of how he'd cleared the corral fence, Jake had reached the open stable in time to nudge Katie to a safer distance, and take hold of the animals bridle.

Continuing to stare into each other's frightened faces, together knowing how close the call had been, they turned at the sound of a chain breaking free. Randall having been third party to the incident had freed Cin' from the wagon and had taken off in pursuit of Celina.

With his wits returning to him, Jake tied the now calm pony to one of the nearest fence posts. His arms felt numb with the simple action as he stumbled in Robert E.'s direction. The startled blacksmith had straightened now, releasing Lucy to Jake's waiting arms. Jake lifted her small body up wrapping her legs around his waist as he squeezed her tightly in his embrace. His large white hand cupped her head to his shoulder, while the other held her back, securely to his chest. He could feel her tiny heart rapidly knocking away next to his steadily pounding one. Even as he held his child in his arms, he couldn't take his eyes off of Robert E.

The poor man was trembling, wiping his stressed face with his ivory work bandana. He was looking around, first to see if Katie was safe, then to his environment. Looking near the point of collapse, Robert E. felt a strong yet shuddering hand grab hold of the fabric above his shoulder. It held true, as he looked up into the grateful face of Jake. There was more said between them in that moment than could be verbalized, though Jake tried.

"I owe you my life," the words slipped out from between Jake's lips. With Lucy buried in the crook of his neck, Jake softly raised the inner points of his brows. The steel tones in his eyes darken into a deep muted blue, as Robert E. returned the gesture by heartily patting Jake's hand with his own. Standing as one father to another, they exchanged knowing stares before Grace ran panic-stricken into the stables with Michael in tow. The two man release one another, as Robert E. allowed himself to be encased by his loving family. It would be moments later before Teresa would make it passed the crowd, with a crying Izzy in her arms.


End file.
